Daughter of Artemis
by paganaidd
Summary: Kara Thrace's trip down the celestial rabbit hole leads her to get spat out of the jump gate right beside former Earth Alliance Space Station Babylon 5.
1. Chapter 1

"Υπολοχαγός Kara Thrace, αυξανόμενος αριθμός πέντε δύο δύο έξι τριών πέντε τεσσάρων επτά τριών από το αστέρι Galactica μάχης." the woman on the stretcher woke up to gasp out at the medical team as they pulled her from her ship. One of the techs had already cut through her suit to get at her arms to run an IV "Πάρτε τους Θεούς σας καταδίκασε τα χέρια από με" the woman groaned as the tech found the vein.

Another tech was cutting through her boots and someone was giving her a quick head to toe looking for obvious injuries. The chief technician, a woman,got in the strange pilot's line of vision and spoke soothingly, "It's all right. We're just looking for injuries." she smiled at the woman hoping to calm her.

The woman only gasped out something else that no one could understand. One of the other techs tried German, then Vietnamese.

The patient was becoming combative, although she had no strength for it. She tried in vain to push the hands that were putting an 02 mask over her face away, "Υπολοχαγός Kara Thrace, αυξανόμενος αριθμός πέντε δύο δύο έξι τριών πέντε τεσσάρων επτά τριών από το αστέρι Galactica μάχης." she said again, more loudly. She flailed and tried to pull the IV out of her arm. before someone gave her a sedative.

Although her words were unintelligible, her tone was obvious. She was convinced that she was in, at the very least, unfriendly hands. Given the damage to her ship, this was understandable. She was a mess. Stephen Franklin was not entirely sure how she'd made it here alive. Her ship had triggered the automatic jump gate sequence and one of the star fury pilots had had to throw grapple lines onto her ship to grab it. They'd tried to signal her, but she'd been unconcious.

From all the readings they could get though, she was human. Nothing was odd about her at all, except the design of her scorched ship was completely foreign and Franklin wasn't even sure what language she was speaking. She was fighting the sedatives too.

"Dr. Stephen Franklin. Notes on new patient." he said loudly to activate the recorder as he examined the blond woman, "Patient is female. Caucasian. Mid to late twenties. Approximately 1.65 meters. No signs of obvious trauma." his technicians had ruled out most injuries and the medlab diagnostics had shown no internal bleeding, fractures or contusions.

Although she looked little banged up, it was no more than any pilot who'd had a rough landing. "Patient shows dehydration, signs of long term exposure to low O2 environment and cold temperatures. Findings are consistent with pilot operating with minimal life support to save ship power. Patient also appears underweight, with evidence of..." he broke off as she stirred and sluggishly opened her eyes, "Stop recording."

She looked at him with sleepy blue eyes, apparently not understanding who he was. Her blond eyebrows drew together in a frown as she muttered something. She tried to lift her hand and discovered it was still strapped to the cot. She looked at him with blazing eyes. She said something venemously and he hurried to her side. He kept his hands in her sight knowing what traumatized pilots could be like, "All right. It's all right, we just didn't want your hands to hit the doors as you came in." he said soothingly as he unbuckled the strap that held her onto the cot, then lifted his hands away from her, holding them at shoulder height with their palms out.

She looked around the room, saw the IV in her hand and tried again to pull it out. Franklin gently put his hand on hers. She was so weak that this was all it took to prevent her, but when he touched her, she looked at him with her face full of terror and anger. Her voice was cold and deadly quiet.

"I'm sorry," he said, as gently as he could, "I can't let you do that. You're dehydrated." she was shaking and he hoped she understood his tone as well as he understood hers.

She spat in his face.

Franklin really, really hoped she didn't have anything communicable as he wiped off his face. He backed off to give the woman the space she obviously needed. She was too weak to move, but nonetheless Franklin kept his eye on her, having had another of this type go AWOL when he'd been, "too weak to move." Tapping his link Franklin said, "Medlab to Garibaldi."

A pause then, "Garibaldi. Go."

"Our new guest is awake. You'll want a translation team with you. She doesn't give any evidence of speaking English." Franklin was watching the medlab moniter on the woman's cot. The woman's brain activity gave no sign that she understood his words at all.

"Does she have any Italian?" Garibaldi asked, in Italian.

Not a twitch from the monitor, "Nope." said Franklin.

"All right," Garibaldi switched back to English, "I'll round up a crew and we'll be there as soon as we can."

"Yeah, I want to be able to talk to her as soon as possible. She looks like she wants some explanations." the woman wouldn't stop staring at him, except when she was checking around the room.

Franklin moved back towards the woman, but not within spitting distance this time, "I'm Stephen Franklin." he said pointing to himself.

She looked at him coldly, then smiled a mirthless little smile. She shook her head as though she found something bitterly funny, "Υπολοχαγός Kara Thrace, αυξανόμενος αριθμός πέντε δύο δύο έξι τριών πέντε τεσσάρων επτά τριών από το αστέρι Galactica μάχης."

Frankilin shook his head, pointed again, "Franklin."

"Υπολοχαγός Kara Thrace, αυξανόμενος αριθμός πέντε δύο δύο έξι τριών πέντε τεσσάρων επτά τριών από το αστέρι Galactica μάχης." the woman repeated, staring at point on the wall in front of her, then she muttered something else to herself.

Franklin sighed, hoping that the translators would get here soon.

"Stephen?" Franklin turned to see Ivanova walk in through the medlab door, "What's going on with our guest? Garibaldi said I should drop by."

The blond woman's eyes narrowed, watching Susan warily.

"We can't talk to her. We don't know what language she's speaking." explained Franklin, "And she's really, really unhappy to be here. Have they checked out her ship, yet?"

Ivanova nodded, "Yes, and that's just making it worse. We can't identify where it comes from or who built it. The outer markings have all been burned off and we can't just rip it part looking for serial numbers."

"Think its illegal?"

"Probably." sighed Ivanova, "But at the moment, I don't have to give a good goddamn about catching anyone for breaking Earth's rules."

The brain scan behind the woman spiked red amidst the general colors of brain activity, signaling a trace of subconcious recognition, although the woman's face didn't move.

"Huh, so she understands something you said." Franklin commented.

"Oh, thats helpful." said Ivanova sarcastically, "Now we just have to play twenty questions."

"Well, what do you speak, other than English?" asked Franklin irritably.

"Russian, Hebrew, French, Greek and enough Minbari to say 'continuous fire'" replied Ivanova, seriously

"Well, try them."

Ivanova stepped toward the woman, "Говорите ли вы русский?"

The woman looked at Ivanova and said in a measured voice, "Υπολοχαγός Kara Thrace, αυξανόμενος αριθμός πέντε δύο δύο έξι τριών πέντε τεσσάρων επτά τριών από το αστέρι Galactica μάχης."

Ivanova stared at the woman for a long time, then she replied in a long slow phrase to the the woman that Franklin thought sounded similiar. The woman spat again, onto the floor this time, then said something defiantly to Ivanova. Then she repeated her stock phrase again, "Υπολοχαγός Kara Thrace, αυξανόμενος αριθμός πέντε δύο δύο έξι τριών πέντε τεσσάρων επτά τριών από το αστέρι Galactica μάχης"

"I think," Ivanova said slowly, "She's speaking Greek, but the dialect is like nothing I've _ever _heard. She thinks we've taken her prisoner."

"Have we?" ased Franklin seriously. If she were dangerous...

Ivanova shook her head wonderingly, "I suppose we better ask the Captain. She says her name is Kara Thrace, she just gave me her serial number and she's from something called a battlestar."


	2. Chapter 2

Kara remembered the nebula. She remembered something like an explosion and a long weird dream involving her mother and Leoben. It was hard to understand what was happening as she swam to consciousness. She wasn't where she had been and all she could remember was the last moment as she fell forever into that terrible hole in space.

With an effort she shook herself to higher alertness. Training, rather than judgement told her that she needed to help herself wake up. Quickly, she turned the dial on the oxygen regulator to add a little more O2 to her mix, to shake off the confusion. After five breaths, she felt much sharper, she dialed it back to normal to save the precious gas.

According to her ship's computer she had blacked out for maybe a minute or two. Probably from the g-forces of the explosion or whatever it was. She couldn't be far from where she'd last seen Lee and all she had to do was head back. She looked around trying to get visual on her wing man. She called out to Lee and Galactica and anyone who might be listening.

She was floating in this weird void--chaotic lights and shadows playing havoc with her aching head. Unfortunately her instruments didn't seem to know where she was. Much less could they lead her back.

She floated there for a few minutes, thinking. "Right." she muttered. She shut off everything but her radio to boost its power. Just on the very edge of her range, the wireless picked up a signal so faint as to be unrecognizable. It flashed out steadily like a homing beacon. She sighed in relief, choosing to believe the most optimistic scenario she could. Bless Lee, he must have set a beacon when the backwash of the explosion grabbed her. She was farther away than she imagined she could be, but she set her crippled Viper on auto, to follow it.

She had enough fuel to get to where the beacon was, almost. In order to conserve power, she shut the life support to minimal. The mild hypothermia would slow her metabolism and give her a little extra time before her O2 ran out. Either the signal was a scrambled beacon from the Galactica and she would live, or it wasn't and she'd wouldn't.

She had forgotten (or more likely just refused to consider) the possibility of Toasters and their fracking mindgames.

She'd come to when she felt them pull her out of the ship. People were speaking to her, but it was all just babble. For second she allowed herself to hope that there was just Tauron or Geminon crew that day and they were just conversing in their native languages, but when they got her onto the deck, she realized this was not the Galactica, nor had she been taken aboard any of the other ships in the fleet. Everything was too clean and the people too well fed. She was too out of it to take in any more details than that.

Great. More gods damned Cylons and now they were playing with languages.

Frack.

Deciding that they would know very quickly who she was, Kara took a direct approach, giving them her name, rank and serial number right off. The techs didn't understand her (or pretended not to). One of them smiled and patted her hand reassuringly as they gave her a once over. Kara felt a needle slide into her vein and tried to fight. No good, she was weak as water.

"Get your hands off me, you bastards!" she moaned through parched lips. She pushed the mask they were trying to put over her face away, repeating her name and information, stubbornly. One of the techs must had put something into the line they had into her vein because Kara's vision blurred and her head went light.

The next time she opened her eyes she was somewhere else. She blinked trying to clear her vision, "My damned head," she muttered. She could see a man coming towards her. She went to lift her hand to rub her eyes and found it bound to the bed.

Shit.

She started to struggle against the straps holding her down and the man hurried over, looking concerned. He said something that sounded like he was trying to be conciliatory. He held up his hands when he'd unbuckled the straps as if to show he was unarmed.

He was unfamiliar; brown eyed and dark skinned, with short hair. Some years older than herself, he was trying to give the impression of trust. He was wearing some kind of lab coat, perhaps. The style was different from what she'd seen. The Cylons liked to be creative with their clothes. Probably the only way they could distinguish one from the other.

She looked down at her now-freed hands and was angry to see them shaking with fatigue and fear. She also saw the needle in her arm and tried to remove it, he reached over and pushed her hand back, saying something.

"Get. Your. Fracking. Hands. Off. Me." she said coldly.

He shook his head and said something else as she struggled into a half sitting position. He smiled at her gently, as though he were trying to reassure her. He didn't remove his hand. She discovered she had enough saliva in her mouth to spit in his face.

He backed off with a cry of disgust. Kara steeled herself for retaliation, but he merely wiped his face while looking annoyed. He spoke into a device that was attached to the back of his hand.

She stopped trying to pull the needle out, fearing he'd give her more sedative. And truly, she needed to wait until she was stronger before attempting to escape, so she just watched him, for now.

Whoever he spoke to replied in the same unintelligible way. Kara assumed this man was one of the infamous Final Five.

He stepped towards her again and pointed to himself as though he were trying to make himself understood.

"Frack yourself." Kara said, she smiled unpleasantly, steeling herself for the ordeals sure to follow, "Lieutenant Kara Thrace, serial number five six two two three four five seven three of the Battletar Galactica. " she said firmly

The man stepped forward, pointing again, saying one word "Franklin."

Stubbornly, Kara averted her eyes, looking at the wall, " Lieutenant Kara Thrace, serial number five six two two three four five seven three of the Battletar Galactica." she dropped her voice, "You can't possibly expect me to buy this bilge." she muttered.

The door slid open. Kara was interested to see that it was another strange skin job, not one of the models she'd seen. With some excitement she realized she might get to see all of the remaining models. Her stomach turned with the realization that it would likely be useless information.

Kara wondered how long it would be before she could find a weapon to kill herself with. After New Caprica, Kara swore the Cylons wouldn't get her alive. Well, they could catch her, but they couldn't keep her. She'd gnaw her own wrists open, if necessary.

The woman was tall, light skinned, dark haired. Pretty, like all the Cylon women were. She wore a strange black and silver outfit that could have been a uniform. Were Cylons going in for uniforms now? Perhaps this one had some clothes made to look like it for some reason. Maybe just because it looked sharp (which it did).

The two conferred with each other softly, Kara caught none of it, until she heard the woman say "Earth". Kara held her breath, but the woman didn't say anything else useful.

Finally the woman walked over and said something else incomprehensible, "Lieutenant Kara Thrace, serial number five six two two three four five seven three of the Battletar Galactica." Kara replied.

The woman's eyes widened, stared at Kara as if she were trying to puzzle out what was just said. Then she replied, very slowly, with an accent that was almost impenetrable, "I am called Commander Ivanova. You were rescued from your ship. You are on the space station Babylon 5."

Kara looked at her contemptuously, "So now we're calling it a 'rescue' are we?" Kara spat on the floor, "Lieutenant Kara Thrace, serial number five six two two three four five seven three of the Battletar Galactica." she said stubbornly.

The two Cylons seemed excited by something. The woman spoke into her wrist device, then came within conversational distance again, "Can you tell us where you come from?" her words were slow and strangely pronounced--she was doing something odd to the consonants.

Kara laughed, harshly again, "Oh, you're funny. Yeah, straight from hell, if you must know."

The man asked the woman a question and the woman said, "Dr. Franklin wants to know if you have any pain?"

As if Kara would admit to anything like that. She was so tired she couldn't even think of a good retort, so she leaned back and closed her eyes, "Only from answering stupid questions."


	3. Chapter 3

"So? What's she saying?" Stephen asked when Kara closed her eyes.

Susan pressed her lips together and stepped back little, "I'm having a hard time following her dialect. I'm not sure how much she understood from me." she crossed her arms over her chest thinking. "She's pretty convinced she's been captured."

"Hm. Well, she's been through the wringer." the doctor glanced at the exam results in his hand. "She's malnourished and has been for a while. A whole bunch of old injuries show up, too. She looks like she's been on the front lines somewhere with uncertain supplies." Stephen looked at the woman speculatively, "Can you ask her if she feels up to eating?"

Susan nodded, "Lieutenant Thrace?" she asked politely in Greek.

Kara opened her eyes slowly, hearing her name, "Yeah, what?" her lips curled insolently.

"Do you think you could eat something?" it took Kara a minute to decipher the woman's speech.

"I could," Kara said reluctantly.

Something about this whole scene was off. Another mind game, no doubt. Kara wondered if the woman skin job had brought up her hunger just to taunt her. Leoben had frequently done things like that during Kara's four month captivity. A way to show that he controlled the environment. Sometimes she'd be deprived of food for a day or two, then she'd have to ask Leoben to get her something to eat.

"Hungry?" he'd ask with a gentle smile, as she sat there stony faced. "All you have to do is ask me. Politely."

What Leoben called politeness usually involved what Kara would call begging. Once she had literally begged, at his feet. She hadn't had food in perhaps four days--he'd wanted her to understand her position, he'd said. To understand that everything she would ever have came from him. To break her to the leash like a dog.

After a while, he stopped making her beg, though. Every time he did, she killed him. She understood that it didn't do more than hurt him badly, but it had felt so good to make him hurt like she hurt.

It made her gorge rise to think of it and she closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again the male skin job had disappeared from view. The woman was still there, still watching her. Imagining the best way to break her, no doubt.

Susan didn't miss the way the woman's jaw tightened. The way she closed her eyes as if shying away from her own thoughts. Susan gave Stephen a nod and he went off to get someone to find tray of food for his patient. Kara's eyes opened again and she stared defiantly back at Susan.

Susan pulled one of the chairs over, sat on it, trying to be little less imposing, "Dr. Franklin is going to have something sent over." She said slowly.

Kara nodded curtly. So they wanted her to relax, did they?

The door opened again, and another skin job came in. A man with a pleasant, bearded face. He was dressed much more casually than the woman, black pants and shirt and an odd flowing cape.

"Marcus?" said Susan, her mouth quirked up in a little half smile, "What are you doing here?"

Kara wondered if the Cylons had decided to invent a new language so that they could converse in front of her--or else just to make her crazy. The new one started talking in the strange language as well.

"Well, you know me," Marcus smiled at Susan, "Can't keep my nose out of things." he shrugged.

Susan just shook her head, smiling. Really, she should ask him to leave, but he was often very good with frightened people.

"I saw Dr Franklin outside. He says that our guest speaks some variety of Greek?" he asked in words that were much more understandable to Kara than Susan's were, "My name is Marcus Cole and I understand you're called Kara Thrace?" he spoke slowly to Kara, giving her what would, on someone who wasn't a Cylon, have been a winning smile.

"That dialect..." said a startled Susan, in English, "It's not the same as hers, but it's close!"

"Its Classical Greek." said Marcus.

"How do you know Classical Greek?" asked Susan surprised.

Marcus shrugged, modestly, "I grew up on a mining colony. Not much nightlife." he continued to speak in Greek because he thought the woman on the cot would be much more at ease if she could understand at least some of what was said.

"Nightlife?" asked Kara sardonically, "Oh that's cute. And where do skin jobs grow up? I thought they were just fracking downloaded."

"Sorry?" asked Marcus politely, "What do you mean 'skin job'?"

Kara's hands tightened and her eyes went dead, "Frack you." she took a slow deep breath, counting the ways she could kill her captors.

Susan cleared her throat, and she and Marcus exchanged a look, a little at a loss, "Lieutenant Thrace?" Susan said, "Where, exactly, do you think you are?"

Kara was too tired to keep her temper. She was too tired, too hungry, too angry at falling into their hands again. Heedless of the tube in her arm, she tried to fling herself at the woman.

Susan skipped back easily from the lunge. Susan and Marcus caught Kara before she could fall off the bed.

"No. Don't do that, you'll hurt yourself." Marcus firmly held her wrists. Kara struggled for a moment, trying to get at his face, then desisted. The moment she relaxed, he pushed her gently back onto the bed. He held her eyes gravely, "I wouldn't do that again. You're not strong enough for that kind of thing."

Kara knew it was true. As it was, she was breathing as though she'd taken a couple laps round the Galactica. Her throat hurt as though she was going to cry. Distantly, she heard her mother berating her for her weakness.

"Fracking toasters." she hissed, "Let's just get on with this."

The two Cylons looked at each other, giving a maddening impression of not knowing what she was talking about.

After a long silence, the door opened, the smell of food making Kara's mouth water. It was yet another skin job, a woman dressed like the dark skinned man. The woman gave the one who called herself Susan a sketchy sort of salute, and then put the tray on table she pulled over to Kara's bedside without comment. She smiled at Kara, and then left the room.

Marcus pulled the lid off the tray, it was the typical infirmary fare, Kara saw. Mostly clear liquids, but it was hot and smelled appetizing.

And was that coffee? It smelled like the freeze dried stuff, but it had been so long since Kara had even had that, that it smelled heavenly. Even Leoben had never had coffee on New Caprica.

There were white packets on the tray next to the coffee. Could it be? Very carefully, Kara opened one of them and tasted it. Sugar. The fleet had run out of sugar in the first two months.

Taking a deep breath, with her eyes still half on her captors, Kara dumped all the sugar into the coffee. Stirred it with the spoon. To hell with it, if it had been drugged, she didn't care. She brought the cup to her lips, savoring the smell, the acid sweet taste. She drank it all in about three gulps. The rest of the food followed, she stopped being aware of her observers for a moment.

When she looked up again, the dark skinned man was back, along with two others. A balding man and a man with dark blonde hair, dressed in the same black uniform as the woman. They spoke quietly to Marcus and Susan, and Kara didn't catch any of it.

"Wait..." said Kara slowly. Perhaps the sugar was reaching her brain now. She tried to think if she'd seen anyone who was a copy here--the techs who pulled her out of her ship weren't anyone she remembered. The person who'd brought her food--she was different again from them. And different from these five.

"Wait." she repeated as all of them turned to look at her, "Where did you say I was?"

Marcus glanced at Susan who nodded at him, and then at the sandy haired man, "Captain," Marcus said in English, "She wants to know where she is. I think she's a little less confused."

Sheridan smiled easily at her, he was not unaccustomed to working with interpreters, so there was no hesitation as he said, "I'm Captain John Sheridan," he held his hand out to her, she took it, looking bemused, "You've landed on the former Earth Alliance Space Station, Babylon 5."

Marcus, translated Sheridan's words.

Kara went even paler than she already was. Sheridan felt her hand tremble in his, before she let go. "Earth?" she repeated in a whisper, "Earth?"

Sheridan nodded gravely, hoping that nodding meant the same thing to her as it did to him. He wanted to ask her about a hundred questions, but she was a little fragile at the moment. Whatever happened to her out there had been pretty traumatic and he thought she was likely to be calmer if they didn't press her just yet.

Kara's breath caught, but still she suspected a Cylon trick, "Are you human then?"

They didn't seem at all confused by the question, "Yes." said Marcus simply.

Kara took a long slow breath. She wasn't ready to trust them yet, but she was ready to consider they might be telling the truth. And if they were...But how was she to know? "Am I a prisoner?" she asked bluntly. She decided to put the question of exactly _who _they were off until she was feeling stronger. right now it would be enough to consider that they may not be Cylons.

John Sheridan thought for moment before he answered through Marcus, "No. Although, it appears that you need to stay in Medlb for a day or two before Dr Franklin is willing to release you." He didn't like the idea of her wandering around unsupervised, but he had no reason to detain. So many things about her didn't add up that he was, in a way, pleased, that she was so debilitated.

"But I could leave? If I wanted to?" she persisted. Marcus had to smile a little as he passed it on.

Sheridan nodded, but Stephen snapped irritably, "She'd be back inside of half an hour."

Marcus cleared his throat, "Dr. Franklin feels that leaving would not be in your best interests."

Kara nodded absently, she was still so tired. She thought she'd test their intentions, here and now, in a small way, "I'm so tired." she told the bearded man. If she were a patient not a prisoner, it was a reasonable request, "Can we do this later?"

"Of course." replied the Captain cordially, his tone warm and sympathetic "We'll talk when you're feeling up to it." He was gratified that when Marcus interpreted his answer, some of the tension left the young woman's face. She looked tired. Stephen had told John how agitated she had been when she first woke up. Now that she had calmed down a bit, she was probably experiencing an adrenaline crash on top of everything else.

The group left, exept for Stephen and Marcus. Through Marcus, Stephen told Kara that someone would be available should she need anything and showed her where the call button was. It was an encouraging sign to Kara that, after the doctor had ascertained she was comfortable, they left too.


	4. Chapter 4

The next time Kara woke up, there were quite a few people moving around her. They must have moved her in her sleep. She wondered if they had sedated her again, generally she was such a light sleeper. She sat up and looked around trying to get her bearings.

They'd taken the tube out of her arm. That was a good sign. No restraints held her to the bed.

The set up was not unlike Cottle's infirmary. The beds were arranged around a central desk with curtains that could provide privacy, but the patients could be overseen by one person. That person, at the moment, was the doctor she met yesterday. When he saw her sit up, he walked over and handed her some variety of handheld computer tablet.

Tapping the screen, so that she watched it, he said, "I had them bring up a translation program so I can talk to you. What I'm saying is appearing on the screen. It's a little slow and clumsy, but we don't have too many people on station who speak classical Greek well. Does this work for you?" This wasn't strictly true, as Classical Greek wasn't that different from modern Greek, but the Captain had wanted the mystery pilot's contacts limited until they figured her out.

Kara read what was on the screen with surprise. There was little lag when he finished speaking as the words appeared. It was so clunky and inefficient.

So _not_ Cylon.

Kara looked up and beamed at him, "That's perfect." as she spoke, he watched his own small tablet and smiled with relief.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

Kara realized she was feeling better than she had in ages. She was also hungry, would have killed for a shower and desperately needed to pee.

"Better." was what she said, "Can I get up?"

Stephen smiled as he read that, satisfied, and nodded. "I'm guessing you'll want to clean up. I'll have one of the aids come and help you. You've been out for a while. If you want to order breakfast, I put a menu into your handheld."

Kara saw the word "menu" was differently colored. Franklin leaned over and tapped the word with his finger, the menu scrolled across the screen. "If you order it now, it'll be up by the time you're back. We can talk more later. Is that ok?" his words scrolled across the bottom underneath the menu.

She nodded a little bemused. It seemed that the handheld computer was somehow integrated into a bigger network. She shivered. That was what had brought the Colonies down in the first place.

She put it out of her mind for a moment. Kara was very good at concentrating just on the task at hand--all good pilots were. She scrolled through the different dishes, surprised that there were so many. A lot of them were unfamiliar. What the frack was spoo?

She found an entry for "eggs (pwd)", "coffee(frz dried)", "sausage (canned)". She tapped each entry, with her preferences as to condiments and serving size. She hoped that if she were dreaming, the food would arrive before she woke up.

Stephen, at his desk, checked to see what Kara was ordering, noting with interest that her selections were high fat, high calorie dishes. Not large servings, though. She also ordered cream for her coffee and a double helping of sugar. So, she wasn't undernourished on purpose, then. Or at least she hadn't done it to herself. It was typical of a regimen that was recommended for soldiers who'd been under survival conditions.

He'd made sure to include a mix of the vitamins and minerals in which she was deficient in the IV he had given her. She'd slept like the dead for about twelve hours, never even stirring when they moved her from the isolab to this unit. Given her condition, she must have been lost out there for a couple of days.

The aid walked over to Kara and politely offered to take her to the facilities, explaining through Kara's handheld as she went that, if Kara had any questions about the functioning of the facilities she could ask the computer. She also had brought Kara a selection of civilian clothes to try on, so that she could get out of her hospital gown. Explaining that Kara's flight suit was a loss.

Kara worried about how she was going to replace that. They had no way to manufacture new ones.

The aid asked Kara if she needed any help and Kara shook her head. The aid opened the door to the shower room, putting the bundle of clothes inside, "Whatever doesn't work, just leave there and I'll come get it." she said, indicating the neatly folded stack.

They had estimated Kara's size and brought her a couple approximations of everything, including underwear and socks. The clothes were pretty generic, black pants, white shirts. Kara smiled at the stack, again the human inefficiency. Leoben always had clothes made for Kara. She thought the Centurians had eyes that could take laser measurements of her or some such thing. The memory of that unwanted intimacy made her shiver.

Here, she would be happy to choose between a little big and a little small.

Stephen took note of the water usage in the shower Kara was using. The water was turned on and off in the manner of one accustomed to water recycling systems. She was about the most conservative person he'd seen, in fact. She certainly acted like she was a military pilot. But, what military? Not Earthforce, all Earthforce personnel spoke English. Since the advent of the internets, English was the language of trade, commerce and the military.

He'd taken the liberty of doing some brain scans when she was sleeping--even a sleeping person will light up with recognition of words they hear. The only language that caused a solid light up was classical Greek. Modern Greek, less so, probably because she'd had to concentrate hard to understand it when she was awake.

Kara smelled the weird non-smell of recycled water in the shower. By habit she was careful with it, although it was tempting to just stand there in the hot water. Galactica's water was sour with her aging filters. Clean enough, but this made Kara remember what clean _really _was.

And followed by really clean clothes, the smell of newness clinging to them. No shoes, but Kara wondered if her boots had been salvaged. She'd ask about it later.

As she emerged from the shower room, no one was waiting outside. That did more than anything else to prove to Kara that she wasn't being held prisoner. People were bustling around, not paying any attention to her, much as they might have on the Galactica, in better days.

The aid saw her standing there and hurried over to lead her back to her bed. Her food had arrived and Kara was shocked by how good it smelled. She pulled the lid off. Years ago, she would have turned her nose up at this; the eggs were reconstituted from powdered, as was the milk for the coffee and the meat had been canned. To her, right now, it was the nectar of the gods.

She pulled the wheeled table up to the bed and sat down. She salted the eggs heavily, savoring the taste of heart attack on a plate.

She was nearly done when she heard the voice of the bearded man, Marcus, on the other side of the curtain. He was talking to a woman. Kara picked up her handheld. The conversation began scrolling across the screen.

"I'm delighted that you're feeling better. You look well." Marcus said to someone Kara couldn't see. He did sound delighted.

"Thank you, Marcus." said a pleasant female voice, "Dr. Franklin said I could leave this morning. Lennier is coming to walk me back to my quarters, soon. Why are you here?"

"I was coming to do some translation for Dr Franklin." replied Marcus, "We have a young woman who's something of a mystery. She speaks an old Earth dialect and apparently nothing else."

"Interesting." replied the woman.

"She's here if you'd like to meet her. She came in rather banged up." Kara looked up from the handheld suddenly, as Marcus peeked around the curtain, "Lieutenant Thrace? Dr Franklin tells me you're up and dressed. Do you feel up to visitors?" he asked in her language.

"Yes," Kara said hesitently. She stood up slowly, wanting to meet anyone new on her feet.

Behind Marcus came the most extraordinary looking woman. She was small, but she had an air of great power around her. She had what Kara first though was an odd hair ornament, until she realized that it was part of her skull. Her hair was long and covered ears that were rather lower than they should be. She had no eyebrows and her nose was odd. Marcus treated her most deferentially. Her clothes were flowing and vaguely reminiscent of Marcus'.

"Ambassador Delen, this is Lt. Kara Thrace of the Battlestar Galactica." said Marcus.

Delenn gave Kara a gracious nod of her head, "I am most pleased to make your acquaintance." she said through Marcus.

Kara smiled nervously, clearly this woman was important, and Kara had no clue how to greet her.

Marcus noted Kara's nervousness. It was not uncommon in people who had never met Delenn before. He also suspected that Lt. Thrace was from some remote colony world that had decided to adopt classical Greek as their native language. Earth Dome didn't have every little settlement charted and some of them were founded on some bastard's idea of utopia. He wondered if the Minbari were little more than a story to frighten children with where she came from, or if they were commonplace.

"What's a battlestar?" Delenn asked Marcus curiously. Kara didn't understand her--Marcus didn't translate and Kara though it would be rude to reach over and grab the handheld. Normally, Kara wasn't particularly worried about being rude, but she liked to know what the rules were before she broke them.

"No idea." replied Marcus cheerfully, "I was hoping we could find that out today."

Before Kara had a chance to do or say anything else man came in that made the woman look positively normal. Like the woman he had no eyebrows, in fact he had no hair at all. His head was bald and he had a strange bony crest on the back of his head.

Kara sat down hard on the bed. The man who came in spoke to the woman and to Marcus. They all looked at Kara with concern, "Are you all right?" asked Marcus solicitously in her tongue.

Kara shook her head, unable to speak for a moment.

Delenn said something softly to Lennier, they inclined their heads to Kara and took themselves out.

Marcus sat down next to Kara who was shaking a little. She turned her head to look at him, "What the _hell_ was that?"

Marcus sighed, he'd been afraid of this, some colony worlds had been hit hard during the war and still carried the old wounds, "Delenn is the Minbari Ambassador and Lennier is her attache. The war..."

"No, I mean, _what were they_?" Kara grabbed his shoulder, her eyes wide and scared.

Much taken aback, Marcus told her "They were Minbari. From Minbar."

"They-they're...aliens?"

"Yes."

"But they're not machines? They're people?" Kara was having a hard time figuring out what she was trying to say, so she was babbling, "I mean, they have their own planet and things? They have children and die like us?"

"Lt Thrace, I'm not sure I understand you." said Marcus, "The Minbari have live births like us, but the Narn..."

"There's more?" squeaked Kara. Suddenly, she had the same sensation she had when she took her viper through a turn that was too tight and the g-forces came close to causing her to black out. She put her head on her knees.

"Lt Thrace?" Marcus said gently in her ear, "Kara?" he was glad she'd put her head down, when the blood had drained from her face. He wasn't sure what had caused such a strong reaction, but she was acting like someone who'd never seen an alien before.

That was a very strange thought.


	5. Chapter 5

"So, you expect me to believe that this woman is from a human civilization. Not an Earth colony. A whole civilization. That we've never contacted before?" John shook his head in wonder and disbelief, "If things weren't so strange lately, I'd tell you to go get your head examined."

Marcus nodded pleasantly, "I've been told to do that often enough."

"So, how is it, she speaks an ancient Earth language? And how did she get here?" Susan asked practically.

"It sounds like, from her description, she fell through a jump gate that was disguised as a nebula. Her ship locked onto the nearest jump gate beacon and she made for that." replied Marcus.

"Who would..? How would someone..?" John trailed off, looking into the distance, "Its got to be one of the First Ones." he focused on Susan, "Do you think its possible? Could...say...the Vorlons have picked up an entire human culture and transplanted it somewhere?"

"Why not?" exclaimed Marcus, "Plato talked about Atlantis disappearing in a day and a night."

"Atlantis is just legend. There has never been any archeological evidence of a lost continent." inturrupted Susan.

"If they took the whole thing, there wouldn't be." shot back Marcus getting excited, "We know what the Vorlons are capable of."

"What if she's plant...from either Clark or the Shadows." said Susan, she always felt her job was to be the cool voice of reason and often the devil's advocate.

"Does Clark have that much imagination? I mean, the Shadows, maybe..." John stood up and paced the length of his office twice, "

"If she doesn't know what a jump gate is, "Susan asked Marcus, thoughtfully "How are her people travelling interstellar distances?."

"Apparently, they have some kind of faster than light technology." explained Marcus.

Susan and John both winced, "Remind me not to catch a ride with them." deadpanned Susan.

"Why not?" asked Marcus. At Susan's impatient eye roll, he laughed self deprecatingly and said, "I took Physics for Poets. All I know about hyperspace is what buttons to push to activate a jump point. "

"Faster than light travel is dangerous." replied Susan, she picked up the globe on John's desk, "If you're traveling faster than light you have to travel on the surface of space." she illustrated with her finger moving from pole to pole, "Hyperspace is like a tunnel through the middle. Our ships go as fast as they always go, but by a much shorter route than normal space. You see?"

"No." admitted Marcus with another smile, "But, faster than light travel is something..."

"We could certainly use against the Shadows." interrupted John slowly, "Technology they have never heard of or seen...At least not for a very long time." he seemed to make up his mind about something, "Susan, can you go find Lyta Alexander? I can't think of any other way to verify what this woman is telling us."

"Do you think our mystery pilot will consent to that?" asked Susan, "You know Lyta won't scan someone without their consent."

"All we can do is ask." replied John sitting down at his desk again.

***

Kara spent the day sleeping and waking up to eat. She had laughed at Dr Franklin's suggestion of sleeping after her meeting with those two people--those two aliens. She thought her mind would never stop. But he was right. Once the initial shock had worn off, she couldn't keep her eyes open.

Marcus had taken his leave, saying he needed to talk to the Captain. That would be his CO, she guessed. Marcus didn't seem military though and he wore a different uniform. Kara wondered if he was some kind of special ops. He had that way about him. Crafty. Accustomed to throwing out the rulebook when it stopped working.

Marcus reappeared as Kara was finishing her dinner. Kara was musing that she now understood how Lee had gained so much weight when he commanded the Pegasus after the Cylon takeover of New Caprica. They had just been skeleton crew and had all of Pegasus' supplies to share out among only a few of them. After so much time being on the edge of starvation, it felt so good to eat.

If she kept this up she wouldn't be able to fit into her viper.

"Lt Thrace?" said Marcus politely.

She jumped a little, surprised she hadn't heard him, "Yes?"

"The Captain would like to meet with you, if you're feeling up to it."

Kara took a deep breath, she knew someone with authority would want to talk to her soon. "Is the doc going to let me out?" she asked.

Marcus grinned, "I think so." he offered Kara his hand. Like a gallant in a story, Kara thought, taking it.

One of the aids had brought Kara some soft slippers, explaining that her boots had been cut through when they pulled her out of her ship. She hoped again that she could get something to replace her flight suit. That was assuming, of course, that after this interview, they'd let her go.

She walked beside Marcus through brightly lit, clean corridors. She'd forgotten what that looked like.

"Lt Thrace?" asked Marcus after a moment, "I should warn you that there are many other alien races on this station. It may be something of a shock." Marcus had decided to take her through the Zocalo, feeling that it was best to get it out of the way.

They turned the corner and Kara grabbed Marcus by the elbow, "Gods" she gasped.

The marketplace was filled with humans and a myriad other types of people, with different shapes, colors and sizes. People buying things, eating, drinking and talking. It looked like any day, in any city, only half the crowd wasn't human.

Kara deliberately took deep, slow breaths to stave off hyperventilation.

Marcus led her through the crowd without much effort. Kara stayed very close to him. They took a hallway across the square. An elevator. Another corridor. Kara kept her mouth shut, feeling that anything she could say would sound foolish. Marcus kept glancing at her, but he said nothing either.

They finally came to a door, walked into another brightly lit room. Kara recognized John as the man who'd greeted her before. Squaring her shoulders she walked to his desk and saluted. Mildly non-plussed John stood and returned her salute. "Uh, at ease." he said.

Marcus translated and Kara relaxed marginally, putting her hands behind her back, standing with her feet shoulder width.

"Please, sit down." John indicated the chair in front of his desk. Again Marcus translated. Glancing at Marcus, John said, "Lt Thrace, I'd like to hear your story, how and why you're here."

Kara looked down at her hands, she wasn't sure where to begin. She looked up at the Captain and then at Marcus. She took a deep breath again, then she began to tell them in her best "report" voice about everything, leaving out the personal details. With Marcus translating and hanging on every word, she told them of the destruction of the Colonies, the pursuit by the Cylons, New Caprica. These people were her last hope for her people. She had to make them understand her.

She spoke for maybe and hour and a half. Eventually, she ran out of words.

Would they believe her?

John sat feeling more and more stunned the longer she spoke. The destruction of twelve planets? An enemy bent on destroying what was left of those planets? That would explain the ship she'd limped in on, held together with bailing wire and duct tape. Her flight suit that was patched with little more than spit.

When she finished, he cleared his throat. She'd dropped her gaze to her hands again. "I trust you understand, Lt. Thrace," he said in a low voice, "I cannot afford to use up valuable resources on an unverified story. We are having a crisis of our own."

As Marcus translated, Kara looked up tensely. He couldn't turn her--turn the people of the Colonies--away.

"I have, therefore, asked Lyta Alexander, our resident telepath, to come and scan you, if you are willing. She will be able to verify your story." John continued.

"Telepath?" said Kara blankly, "What's that?"

"Perhaps you have a term for it I'm unaware of." said Marcus, "She's a person who can hear other people's thoughts."

"You mean like the Oracles of Apollo or something?" asked Kara, she noticed then that Commander Ivanova had come in with another, red haired, woman.

Marcus smiled as if she had said something he found delightful, "Yes. Precisely."

Kara nodded, if _that _was all it took to get their help, "Of course," she smiled at John.

Lyta was surprised at Kara's ready agreement. Most normals balked at anything beyond the surface scans they used in business meetings. Susan stood looking uncomfortable, as she always did when Lyta was doing anything telepathic.

"Hello," Lyta said, taking the seat next to Kara, she turned it so they were facing each other, "I'm called Lyta," she liked to be on first name terms with someone who she would be scanning like this.

Again Marcus translated what Lyta was saying, "In order to verify what you've told us, I'm going to have to do a scan that's rather deeper than usual. If you were a plant or a spy, you may have had artificial memories implanted."

That made sense to Kara, "Can your oracles detect artificial memories?" she asked, thinking what an advantage that would be when they were looking for skin jobs.

"Most can't, but I'm...special." replied Lyta, "This may cause you some discomfort. I'm sorry."

Abruptly, Kara realized Marcus was no longer translating for the woman,

"It's okay, I'm speaking to you inside your head." Lyta said, gently.

Just like an oracle, thought Kara.

"I need to see your memories. What happened to your worlds?" Lyta asked.

It seemed that ten thousand things flashed through Kara's mind, in no particular order or chronology. She was only able to identify a few for herself.

The brig-angry- Colonel Tigh- Starbuck-Apollo-Boomer-Helo-the Old Man-fear-shot-Pegasus-flying combat-running-hungry-angry-Caprica-running-running-the Resistance-Sam-going back-more combat-New Caprica-fearangerfearfearfear...

Leoben.

No.

Stop.

Stop.

"It's all right." Lyta said to Kara softly, they stood in front of a closed door. Lyta had just closed it. Dimly, Kara realized that this was a place in her head, "I'm sorry. I won't go there." Lyta said, "I think I have enough, anyway."

"What do I do now?" asked Kara

"Open your eyes."

Kara did so. The people in the room were staring at her. There were tears running down her face. Susan reached over and handed her a tissue. Kara took it, blew her nose. SHe looked up to meet Susan's eyes, expecting pity, rather she saw a kind of grim understanding.

Lyta had done an internship with the Psi Corp Enforcement Unit, the Psi-Cops. Her role had been to help victims through their initial trauma so that they could make solid identifications and give good testimony that might otherwise be repressed. She had quit when she realized she had the wrong temperament for it--it was not something she would be able to do on a regular basis, but many of the techniques she had used in that work had come in handy over the years.

Today they had probably saved her sanity. Through Kara's eyes she had witnessed the destruction of the Colonies and what happened to the survivors.

Kara was sick and shaking now. Her throat hurt, like she'd been screaming.

_Had _she been screaming?

"Captain," said Lyta slowly as she wiped her own eyes, "Everything Lt Thrace has told you is nothing less than the truth."

John nodded, slowly. He knew as soon as he saw her reactions to the memories Lyta was disturbing that it had to be true. And he'd bet half the station that she'd been a POW. He'd seen people react like that after torture.

"Susan." he said, "I want you to treat this as a First Contact situation. Find Lt --no-- _Ambassador _Thrace some quarters in the ambassadorial section. Issue her an identicard as an acting ambassador, the whole nine yards."

"Yes, sir." said Susan in her clipped voice, she turned and strode from the room.

"Ambassador Thrace, does your ship have a navigational recorder that we can use to find your position where you entered hyperspace?" John asked,

Kara nodded numbly after Marcus translated all that. Now she knew how Laura Roslin must have felt, going from Secretary of Education to President in a day.

"Do you think you can tell us what the Fleet's next position is?"

Kara's heart was hammering as it never did in combat. She nodded again, stifling the urge to hug the man.

John held out his hand, "Welcome, Ambassador Thrace. I suggest we adjourn until tomorrow morning. I think we can get a White Star organized for tomorrow to look for your people."

She took the hand, not caring now that her eyes were streaming.

***

Susan was back very quickly and she and Marcus offered to escort Kara to her quarters.

"Marcus?" Kara said very hesitantly, she hoped like hell she wasn't about to tread on any cultural taboos.

"Yes, Ambassador?"

Kara's face flared red. That was going to take some getting used to. Lee would laugh his ass off if-_when_-she saw him again, "Do your people...drink alcohol?"

It was Susan who answered, smiling slyly, "Oh, I think you could say we do."

"In that case...I could do with one." she took a long shaky breath, "A big one."

Susan's smile got wider, "Well, in the name of--" she cleared her throat, "Good diplomatic relations, I think I can manage to find you something. And perhaps we could have an evening of..." she trailed off looking for words.

"Cultural exchange." supplied Marcus.

Kara thought she could come to like these two very much.


	6. Chapter 6

The walls of the shrine were covered in the pictures of, perhaps, ten thousand people. Some were photographs, some drawings in ink or in pencil. One or two child's drawings in crayons poignantly graced the collage here and there. These were merely a fraction of the lost.

Here and there, small votive candles burned and incense was offered. Sometimes Lee wondered about the wisdom of allowing this when their air scrubbers worked overtime as it was. However, people needed to remember their dead, so the incense was allowed and the candles. No more than a few at a time burned though, like everything but the names of the dead, they were becoming scarce.

Every ship in the fleet had one of these shrines and they all had ten thousand pictures. They were all that was left of somewhere close to fifty billion souls. Lee wondered if there was a word for the deaths of that many people--to describe the deliberate extinction of the whole human race. If there wasn't a word, they should create one.

Lee stood with the picture of Starbuck in his hand. She stood next to her viper, cocky pilot grin. She was lighting the cigar hanging out of her mouth, her helmet set on the wing. It was a shot he'd taken of her, years ago. She was so young. Zak was still alive and she was Lee's soon to be sister-in-law.

Somewhere in the back of Lee's mind, he'd known that Kara always considered him a poor substitute for Zak. There was never really anything between Lee and Kara. Not really. It was always Starbuck and Apollo that had the chemistry. In their own minds and in other people's. Lee had thought for all of thirty minutes once, that he and Kara had a chance together. But she'd married Sam so he'd married Dee.

Lee gave a long sigh. He was hung over, but that was pretty normal these days. He hit the drink pretty hard, but so did everyone. They distilled algae mash into something alcoholic and called it whiskey. Nobody cared about the taste.

He took a collar pin from his pocket. It was Starbuck's that had been left in his room ages ago. He'd kept it as a keepsake, for some reason. Perhaps a talisman that would lead her back to him.

Now he used it to pin the photograph to the wall of the shrine, ""Artemis, to thee I set up this image here. Do thou accept it, Lady, and keep her safe." Lee whispered softly, knowing that the traditional words would have pleased Starbuck. Lee, never really a strong believer at the best of times, found himself wondering if there were any gods to hear their prayers. Perhaps the Lords of Kobol had died with the Colonies.

Boots scuffing on floor startled Lee. He turned to come face to face with Sam Anders, "Oh." he said stupidly, "Hey."

"Hi, Lee." said Sam, awkwardly. He held in his hand a picture of his own, and he leaned on a cane. Not too long after Kara had disappeared, he'd broken his leg, drunkenly falling off the side of his viper. "I was going to put this up." Sam extended the photo for Lee to see. It was one Sam had taken the day Kara and Sam were married.

Lee nodded, turned away, "Catch you later, Longshot." he told the other man. He didn't ever want to talk about Kara with Sam. He couldn't believe that after all the deaths, that Kara's should be so much more painful. He hadn't felt this bad even when his brother died.

When he was out of Sam's sight, he leaned against the wall of the corridor. He couldn't cry now, he just closed his eyes.

An alarm began to sound, calling vipers to scramble. Lee stood with his eyes closed for another three seconds, waiting to hear what the contact was.

"Action stations. All pilots. Unknown contact."

Lee groaned and cursed, he was running before he had time to fully process what was said, wondering what new horrors the Cylons had sent for them. It was in less than his usual time he was in his viper and launched.

The familiar drop in his stomach as his ship hit space was always good for clearing Lee's head. Most of his problems were left on Galactica's flight deck. From the first time he'd ever flown a viper, it had been like this. This was why he'd never dropped out of the military, no matter how many times he considered it.

The contact on his DRADIS was vague. Just at the edge of range. He boosted the power, and was rewarded with a clearer sighting, although still not a good one. The sillouette was completely unfamiliar. Nothing like any of the Cylon ships they'd ever encountered. It had wings that would enable it to operate in atmosphere, but it was bigger than the ships that usually did so. The energy signature seemed to indicate a small nuclear power source rather than a tyllium drive. No FTL drive then. Nuclear just didn't provide the right kind of power for FTL; a ship using nuclear power would end up spreading it's molecules from one end of the galaxy to the other.

So if they had no FTL, where was the base star?

Apollo ordered the vipers to take positions to protect the fleet. He wasn't technically in charge at the moment, but no one countermanded him, "Apollo to Galactica. Heading out to investigate contact." They had too few vipers to waste on this. When the missiles started flying they needed to be between the fleet and the hostiles.

The strange ship hung in space, getting no closer to the fleet. Not drifting though. Apollo's sensors picked up the engines turning on and off to maintain its position, just out of missile range of the fleet. It swung sideways at Apollo's approach. A small ship, about the same size as his viper launched from it.

It _was _a viper.

"Starbuck to Colonial viper. Who's out here?" the question crackled over the wireless before the ship got within good visual range.

No.

"Starbuck to viper? Are you there?" It sounded like Kara. Right down to her impatience with Apollo taking more than a tenth of a second to reply.

"Uhh, Apollo to unknown viper." Apollo said, swallowing, "Identify yourself and the unknown ship."

"Apollo!" the voice on the wireless laughed, "Its really me. It's Starbuck."

Absolutely not.

"Starbuck is dead. I saw the explosion myself. Please identify yourself, or I will fire." Apollo tried to get a lock on the larger ship before firing, but its' silhouette shivered on the DRADIS. His targeting computer told him it was a DRADIS echo. So this ship had some variety of cloaking technology. That was all right, he could still shoot at it using his eyes.

"White Star Two to Colonial Viper." a woman's voice, barely understandable, cut in, "We are representatives from the Space Station, Babylon Five. We are human and we request permission to enter Colonial Fleet Space---" she paused for a moment as though trying figure out what to say next, "Acting Ambassador Thrace has requested humanitarian aid on behalf of the Colonial Fleet and we have come to deliver it."

Apollo sheered off, away from the ship, his head spinning, "Apollo to Galactica...are you _hearing _this?"

"This is Admiral Adama." Adama's voice was strained. Apollo could just imagine the scene on the bridge. It would be silent as every head turned towards the Admiral. Like so many times before, the people waited for the Old Man's decision and trusted him to pull off another miracle. But this miracle just seemed too unlikely, "You will forgive me my caution, but Kara Thrace was killed in an explosion several weeks ago. I think I'd like some proof before I let an unknown ship into the middle of my fleet."

"My name is Commander Ivanova." the woman's voice replied courteously, "Understood. We would like to send a diplomatic team to the Galactica, composed of myself, several representatives from allied worlds and a translator."

"So you want to send over a shuttle?" Adama asked, possibly just to be clear.

"Yes, sir. The White Star will maintain her distance from the Colonial Fleet until she is granted permission to approach."

A long silence followed. Lee knew that now the bridge would be loud with raised voices. Tigh would want to just blow them out of the sky, Gaeta would argue to allow them aboard. The Admiral would send someone to find the President and find out what she wanted to do. After hearing all the suggestions and entreaties, as many pros and cons as they had time for, Bill Adama would do exactly as he saw fit.

Minutes passed.

"Starbuck to Apollo." his wireless crackled. The other viper had come close enough, while he maintained his position between the strange ship and the Fleet, that he could get a visual on the pilot. It drew up beside him, "Your three O'clock, Apollo." Lee looked to his right. Smiling at him with that cocky delighted smile he knew so well was Kara Thrace.

She waved.

Lee's hands shook on the controls. He took a few deep breaths, "Starbuck...you were caught in that gravity well...something exploded..." He was choking on his words, tears running down his cheeks. He remembered that everyone on the Galactica bridge would hear him. He stopped talking before he could truly sound like an ass.

"It wasn't an explosion. I can't explain it, but they have engineers who can." replied Kara, "Lee, they're from Earth and they've come to help us." she finished softly.

"And you just _happened _to find them?" Apollo scoffed.

"More they found me." Starbuck stayed close on Apollo's wing as he flew a tight holding pattern.

She flew like Kara, but could it be a Cylon trick? Kara had been locked up by the Cylons longer than anyone. The Cylons could have done anything to her--up to and including taking her DNA to make copies, Lee supposed. But flying was more than a matter of inborn reflexes and genetic tendencies. It was learning and experience. Unless they downloaded Kara's memories, a clone would be merely a twin--no more like Kara than a sibling might be. They could _never _teach her to fly like Starbuck.

"If you're Starbuck," Lee said, "Catch me."

He broke away in a sudden barrel roll, then curved upward as steeply as he dared without blacking out.

The other pilot shrieked in delight, much like Starbuck might have and the chase was on. This was a game Apollo and Starbuck had played many times in their trainings. The object was for the chaser to bring their viper within a distance to collide with the other, but never touch.

"Galactica to Apollo--What the frack..." Tigh broke off, Apollo imagined Admiral Adama shutting him down, eager to see the outcome of the little contest. In some ways, Lee and his father had remarkably similar thought processes. Bill Adama knew precisely what the frack Lee was up to.

The two vipers climbed, spiraling around each other, forming a double helix with their short trails. Apollo broke off to left, Starbuck following after a nanosecond, right on his tail. He spun, circled, used every evasive trick he'd ever known and made one or two up on the spot. Starbuck maintained her closeness and closed the distance even more.

After a steep turn and a spin, Apollo lost the other viper for a moment, shaking his head to clear his dizziness. Then the other ship passed so close above him that, had he popped the canopy, he could have almost touched it.

"Tag!" called Starbuck.

Apollo couldn't reply, his throat too constricted.

"This is President Laura Roslin to White Star Two." The wireless suddenly came to life, "We would be happy to meet with your diplomatic party. If our viper pilots are finished with their display of precision flying," Laura's voice held a note of humor that eased the tension, "They can escort your shuttle to the Galactica."


	7. Chapter 7

Kara's stomach was doing flips as she landed her viper on the deck of the Galactica. She wasn't sure _what _emotions she was feeling--whether it was fear or excitement, she couldn't tell. This meeting would decide everything. The diplomats who were coming board the Galactica were aware that, if the Admiral and the President decided this was a Cylon trick, there was a possibility they'd all be killed.

She landed her viper neatly, as if she were testing for her pilot's wings. No Starbuckesque stunts would do here. She popped the canopy and Galen Tyrol was there, giving her a hand up she didn't need. He stared at her tensely as she hopped to the floor. She assumed he was studying her unfamiliar flight suit, clearly brand new and bearing strange insignia.

Galen backed away, his expression unreadable. She didn't expect much more--she'd been gone for weeks. Everyone had assumed she was dead. She could be a skin job. Hell, that's what she would assume.

Marines were stationed around the perimeter of the flight deck while others took positions around the strange shuttle. Kara whispered a fleeting prayer that she had brought sufficient proof of her words. Every step seemed to take much more time than it should as she walked to stand near the hatch of the Whitestar's shuttle.

Out of the corner of her eye, Kara saw Lee coming quickly from his own viper. He stopped short and Kara flashed him her grin and a wink before setting her face to meet with President and the Old Man who were entering the flight deck with a contingent of marine escorts.

Once she caught sight of him, Kara had eyes for no one but Bill Adama. She had forgotten how much she relied on him to be a still point in the mess she frequently made of her life. He was not a father figure, not really. Unless one considered that he was a father figure for the entire Fleet, perhaps one step down from the Lords of Kobol.

He signalled to Roslin to stand back away from her. Kara stood fully at attention, as though this were a parade ground. She saluted crisply when he came within conversational distance. They could have been the only people on the deck. He returned the salute, "Report, Lieutenant." he growled.

Kara's voice shook, surprising her, "I brought help, Admiral." she said, indicating the shuttle, "They are...well...they can help us."

The Admiral glanced back at the President who nodded tightly, "How are we going to be sure this isn't another trap?" he asked bluntly, "Give me one good reason I shouldn't shoot you where you stand or lock all of you up?"

"Admiral, I believe that the Babylon 5 diplomatic team has brought sufficient proof of their origin and their intent." replied Kara, "But, it might be wise to clear the flight deck of all but essential personnel."

"Oh?" asked the Admiral, eyebrows raised.

"The team has members whose appearance might be a little...shocking." this was something that Kara had talked over with Susan. If possible, curiousity seekers should be kept to minimum.

Of course, they'd also discussed that it might _not _be possible, "I think that the people gathered here can can cope with 'shocking'" replied the Admiral archly, "The President is most anxious to meet these people."

Kara nodded. Unfortunately, she would likely get locked up for hallucinations if she tried to explain, "May I give them your permission to come aboard, sir?"

The Admiral nodded, stepped back to stand with the President. The Marines took on the stance and formation of an honor guard, rather than an arresting party. The marines around the perimeter still stood at the ready, Kara noted. Kara tapped the link they'd issued her on B5, smiling at the questioning looks she was getting from the people close enough to see her talking into what looked like a wrist watch.

"Commander Ivanova?" she said.

"Go ahead, Ambassador," replied Susan.

Kara had to fight down a nervous giggle at the surprise of those in earshot. They were going to be far more surprised in a moment, "The Admiral and the President have given you permission to come aboard."

"Acknowledged."

Kara went to stand to the left of the opening hatch. Susan emerged first, looking efficient and impressive in the black and silver dress uniform she'd donned for the meeting. Behind her was Marcus, smiling as always. Behind him, Delenn emerged, eliciting scattered gasps and mutterings. She held her head high and smiled gently as though she were being greeted with cheers rather than gasps.

Kara fell into step beside Susan to take her to the Admiral. Mrcus allowed Delenn to precede him. Kara had her back to the shuttle now, but she knew that the other diplomat and the secretary for the first contact team had exited the shuttle when the mutterings increased in volume and were punctuated by a few little shrieks in the crowd.

Kara led Susan to where the Admiral and the President stood. Susan saluted them, "I am Commander Ivanova, of the Space Station, Babylon 5." she said slowly in her oddly accented Caprican.

Kara could see the Admiral's hand shake as he returned the salute, "Admiral Adama," he told her, then he turned to indicate Roslin, "This is President Laura Roslin."

The President extended her hand slowly, "I am pleased to meet you." the President managed to say, looking furtively over Susan's shoulder.

"I am honored." Susan said gravely, as she took the proffered hand, "If I could introduce you to our team?"

Laura nodded, her lips were tight, as though her mouth were too dry to speak.

Susan turned to beckon Marcus and Delenn forward, "I am Ambassador Delenn, of the Minbari." Delenn said slowly, her accent even worse than Susan's. She gave the President a bow with her hands held in front of her stomach, forming an inverted triangle with her fingers, "In friendship, I greet you." she smiled again, looking steadily at the President, "You forgive. I understand little your language. Our translator." Delenn gracefully indicated Marcus, "Marcus of the Anla Shok."

Marcus smiled broadly, "I will translate for the entire team." his accent the most understandable of the three, "I am honored to meet you, Admiral, Madame President." he graced them with the same kind of bow Delenn had, although Kara noticed it was quite a bit deeper. He took up a position on the left of the group, while Delenn stood next to Susan and Kara to the right.

The other diplomat came forward with the secretary pacing behind him. Kara held her breath. On B5, they had had some debate whether they should send such obvious non humans to make first contact. Delenn looked unusual, although not in an alarming way. Lennier, likewise had a look and manner that were non-threatening. Kara understood that he was Delenn's attache with experience in assisting in negotiations and thus a clear asset.

After some long discussion, it was decided that G'kar was the only person with the necessary diplomatic experience who also could be trusted to keep the situation an absolute secret.

Kara's first reaction to G'kar had been fear. He was so...alien? His skin looked vaguely reptilian at first glance, although when Kara looked more closely, his skin was not scaly. Rather than hair, his head was covered in a mottled pattern of light brown, dark brown and green spots. His facial coloring was tan, his eyes red and his mouth filled with teeth that seemed a trifle too sharp. His voice was deep and pleasing, though he didn't speak any Caprican. After her initial shock, Kara thought he was handsome in strange way. Perhaps it was the way he carried himself.

G'kar strode directly to the President and the Admiral. Both their faces reflected wide-eyed open-mouthed shock, "I am Citizen G'kar," G'kar said, gently and with grave dignity. He gave them a recognizable smile, "I understand you have never met a Narn before?" he said this in the language commonly used on Babylon 5. Marcus who still stood in his position, translated smoothly. G'kar touched his fists to his chest and inclined his head in greeting. He looked around the flight deck before returning his eyes to meet the President's, "I believe we have a great deal in common." his voice now a little grim.

G'kar moved to stand next to Delenn. Lennier walked up to present himself, bowing deeply, although the box he carried prevented him from making that inverted triangle salute. When he straightened he didn't make eye contact. He used the few phrases of Caprican Kara and Marcus had taught them, "I am honored, Madam President, Admiral Adama. I am called Lennier. I assist." he bowed again.

Neither the Admiral nor the President seemed able to speak yet. The flight deck was unaturally quiet as every person seemed to be holding their breath. Roslin grasped Adama's arm as though supporting herself. Adama gave her a sharp look, "I would suggest we do this in one of the conference rooms." Adama said quickly to her.

The President nodded, perhaps gratefully.

Lee was standing behind the Admiral now, Kara was surprised to see. She hadn't paid attention to anything but the diplomatic party for the last five minutes. He whispered into the Admiral's ear just loud enough for Kara to hear, "The pilot's briefing room is empty right now. It's closest."

Kara looked more closely at Laura Roslin, as she leaned heavily on Adama. She was very white. Swaying on her feet, noted Kara, beginning to be alarmed. Adama looked at Kara, gave her a little jerk of the head, "If you'll all follow me?" he said courteously to the rest of the party.

The honor guard kept pace with them, as did Lee. After a few steps, Roslin seemed to regain her balance and let go of the Admiral's arm. As they reached the door, Roslin whispered something to Adama who signaled for the marines to stand down. Lee exchanged a worried look with his father, and spared suspicious one for Kara

The briefing room was set up for just that, but in short order, Kara and Lee picked up the long table against the wall, moved the podium back and put the table in its place.

"Captain?" said Adama to Lee, as he pulled up a chair for the President to sit in. "Tell Tigh that I will be a while. He has the bridge. And then...I'd like you to stay. "

Kara understood that Lee was to be Adama and Roslin's protection.

Lee spoke into the radio on the wall then went to arrange chairs for the diplomatic party. Quickly Lennier and Marcus joined him. Marcus waved Kara away saying, charmingly "Ambassadors don't move furniture." he winked, "This might be your only chance to enjoy it."

Kara blushed and sat down in the chair Lennier offered her.

When they were all seated, Roslin took a deep breathe, "I'm sure you realize that it's very difficult to take this all in."

"Yes, Madame President," replied Susan, nodding, "Acting Ambassador Thrace has briefed us on the difficulties you have had with identifying Cylons."

"Acting Ambassador Thrace?" repeated the President, her eyebrows raised. The Old Man's mouth twitched like he wanted to smile.

"Yes," replied Susan, "It is the protocol in first contact situations that the first member of an alien race or culture to contact us be accorded the title of acting ambassador, until such time as an ambassador can be appointed by the alien government."

"That's quite a promotion." said Roslin, smiling a little now.

"Yes, ma'am." said Kara looking down.

"Well, how _are _we to know you're not Cylons?"

Susan glanced round at her fellow team members, said something that Marcus didn't translate. Delenn nodded encouragingly. Susan turned back to the President, "We believe that if you were to take blood samples from the humans and to look at the mitochondrial DNA, you would find a thousand years or more worth of genetic drift as compared to your general population. If you were to take blood from the non human members, a cursory look under a microscope would show its non human origins."

"And you're willing to do this?" asked Roslin.

The diplomats all nodded, "Get Dr. Cottle and a microscope up here, right now." Adama told Lee tersely.

Lee again used the wall console, this time to pass on the request for Cottle, making it clear it was very urgent.

Kara watched Lee, wondering how it would be when they were alone and could greet each other properly. She also wondered how she would greet Sam.

Susan and her team sat quietly, Susan looking tense. Kara supposed it was because Susan felt their safety was in her hands. Before Kara had left the White Star, Susan had told Kara that in the event of something went wrong, their first priority would be to get Delenn out safely, "I have no wish to restart the Minbari War." she'd said, "If it all goes to hell, Marcus, Lennier and G'kar will protect Delenn."

"And you?" Kara had asked.

Susan had smiled crookedly, "Who wants to live forever? There's no way I'll face John Sheridan if something happens to Delenn."

Kara was jarred out of her reverie by Cottle bustling in the door, carrying a portable microscope, "Laura, what the hell is so gods damned..." he began, stopping abruptly when he saw the strangers in the room.

"Dr. Cottle." said Roslin, "We have some visitors that..." she trailed off as if she were at a loss.

Kara saw that the President was paler than ever. "We need to prove that they aren't Cylons before we start negotiations. If you'll examine the blood from Citizen G'kar and Lennier, you'll see that its not anything like human." Kara risked interrupting, unable to stop herself.

"Not human." repeated Cottle blankly, "I thought all the hysterics flying around were just that." he set his things down on the table, pulling out a few slides and a box of lancets from a bag he carried.

G'kar extended his hand with an amused smile. Kara thought Cottle was going refuse to touch him. Then the doctor visibly steeled himself, "Can I just poke it's..."

"His" put in Kara firmly

"His finger? Like with anybody?" his hands were shaking a little as he donned gloves and snapped the tip protective tip from the lancet.

Marcus spoke to G'kar, then replied, "Just don't cut the finger off, and we're fine." G'kar's smile was wider now.

Cottle grunted and poked the side of G'kar's second finger, milking a drop of blood onto the slide. With a practiced hand he set a cover onto it and slid it into the microscope.

After a moment of fiddling with the dials, he gasped and swore.

"What is it?" Admiral Adama asked, leaning forward.

"Bill, did you take biology in secondary school?" Cottle asked slowly.

"Just beginning levels, why?" replied the Admiral.

"Look at this and tell me I'm not crazy." grunted Cottle, lighting a cigarette shakily.

"Blood doesn't look like that..." said Adama.

"Human blood doesn't. But I assure you, its quite normal for the Narn." Susan said, smiling, "Earth found out about a hundred years ago that we weren't alone in the universe. It was quite a shock to people, then."

Roslin took a turn at the microscope, "Could this be faked somehow?" she snapped at Cottle.

"Madame President," said Cottle, "I can't even imagine how you'd do that."

Kara thought it showed the measure of Cottle's disturbance that he used someone's title rather than the name he preferred to call them.

Roslin turned slowly to Kara, "It's really you? And you really found Earth..?"

"Well, one of their outposts anyway." replied Kara.

"We are prepared to offer humanitarian aid and an escort to safe territory." said Susan, "Unfortunately, you are very near to intruding on Vorlon Space. They've offered us safe passage back to Babylon 5 space, as long as we don't drop out of hyperspace. We have a cargo ship waiting in hyperspace with supplies for your fleet. Food, medicine and clothing for 40,000 people for the next month. Courtesy of the Minbari and the Non-aligned Worlds. After that...you will have to assess what your needs and goals are."

Roslin's eyes became suspiciously wet, and she struggled for words. Delenn came to her rescue, "It is custom among the Council races to open negotiations with a gift to one's hosts, she said, standing. Marcus translated for her. She opened the box Lennier had carried in. First she presented Roslin with square box wrapped in ribbon, "These are from the Human Homeworld," Kara had helped Delenn choose these gifts for Adama and Roslin.

Roslin opened it gingerly, breathed in the smell, "Gods. It's chocolate. None of the ships brought the beans...I never thought I'd smell chocolate again..." she whispered.

Delenn handed Adama a larger rectangular box. He opened it. A large bottle of amber liquid was in it, "Lee," Adama said opening it, his voice thick, "Get some glasses so we can share a drink with our new allies."

**A/N Yes, I know Minbari can't drink alcohol. Lennier, ever efficient, brought bottled water for he and Delenn**


	8. Chapter 8

The discussions went on for hours. Roslin and Adama had a million questions for their new allies.

One of the hurdles was the explanation of jump gate technology and whether it was possible to bring the Fleet back to B5 space using them. Susan seemed pretty certain that if the ships were fit for FTL travel, hyperspace would be child's play. "We brought engineers who will inspect your ships, though." she told them. "If necessary, a cargo ship can be brought here to replace any ships that may have to be abandoned. It would not be the most comfortable journey perhaps..."

"Commander," Laura interrupted, a little sharply "Half our ships used to be cargo ships. I think we will manage."

"Yes, ma'am." said Susan deferentially. The discussion of logistics continued for some time.

"What sort of supplies are you offering us?" Laura asked finally, getting down to the basics.

Through Marcus, G'kar replied, "As far as food stuffs go, we have tried to provide rations that Acting Ambassador Thrace felt would be most palatable to your population. Babylon 5's medical team also attempted to ensure the food contained the nutrients that Ambassador Thrace appeared lacking in when she was in B5's Medlab."

"Y'mean I won't be treating bloody gums every gods damned day?" asked Cottle who had stayed to take part in the discussions. He was also keeping a sharp eye on the President. Kara wondered what was wrong with her.

Marcus turned "Bleeding gums? A nutritional deficiency?" he asked. They were having problems with some words and concepts that had been discovered long after Earth had split from the other Colonies (Or was it the other way around? Marcus and Susan had shared information with Kara that appeared to show that Earth, not Kobol was the Homeworld of the humans. Kara was not yet convinced, but the evidence appeared legitimate enough that she was deeply confused. She had advised them not to bring that up with either the President or the Admiral until after treaties were signed.)

Cottle nodded, "From lack of fresh fruit and vegetables. Refined algae only has so much of the stuff that stops it. We do the best we can supplementing with pills, but our supplies of those are starting to run low."

"Perhaps we have enough for now." Delenn said, as Marcus translated. She was looking hard at Laura who was visibly flagging. "We will go back to the White Star and begin organizing our shipments and teams."

The Diplomatic team took their leave graciously. A full meeting with the Quorum was scheduled for the next day and Susan asked for Adama to provide a schedule for her engineers to meet with the Fleet's captains and chief engineer.

"Galen's going to have a field day." Kara whispered to Lee, who smiled back at her.

If Kara entertained the thought that her day was over when the diplomatic party headed back to the White Star, leaving her on the Galactica, she was quickly disabused of that notion. As soon as she and Lee escorted them back to the shuttle with a preliminary list of the Fleet's needs , Cottle caught her around the wrist.

"You're coming with me, young woman." Cottle rasped.

The Admiral was right behind him, "Laura and I need to debrief her." he cut in. He was too dignified to grab her other wrist though.

Lee shook his head, "Don't you think she deserves some time to herself for a bit?"As he put his hand on her shoulder, Kara took that to mean _he_ wanted some private time with her.

Suddenly Sam came hobbling up, leaning heavily on a cane due to a casted leg, "Kara!" was all he said, his voice quiet. He looked at her longingly and glared at Lee. Likely he was wondering what her status was. They hadn't given any status reports to anyone except Tigh and the Quorum. Kara wondered how the hell he messed up his leg.

She decided she wasn't ready to face either Lee or Sam, so she turned to Cottle, "What do you need? I'm fine, doc."

"I'll be the judge of that. I need to make sure you haven't picked up the polka-dot plague or something before I let you into the general population." Cottle looked around at the rest of them, "In fact I want all of you to come down. Last thing we need is a fraking epidemic."

The Admiral looked dumbfounded, "Oh shit. Laura."

Kara wondered again what must be wrong with Laura. Like a bolt from the blue it hit her. The cancer must have come back. If she was doing chemo again, her immune system would be all fraked up. Clearly it hadn't been made public yet though, they wouldn't be so gods damned cagey about it otherwise

Cottle nodded, glancing sharply at Sam, Lee and Kara. Lee was looking back at Cottle with a calculating look. Sam just stood there gazing at Kara with his puppy dog eyes, apparently missing the whole exchange. "Not just Laura, either." grunted Cottle, "They could be carrying any damn thing. And we'd have no immunity."

Kara shook her head, "I don't think so...I mean their docs checked me over and they didn't find anything."

"Uh huh, and how do I know they weren't just looking for things that affect their people? There's diseases we eradicated, generations ago, that they may still have. Hell, a simple unfamiliar virus could..." Cottle broke off with a shudder, lit another cigarette, "I won't take the chance, thanks."

Kara made a mental note to ask Susan if they could get any tobacco cigarettes, those synth ones stank to high heaven. She wondered for a moment if they even had any nicotine in them or if they were purely placebos. She yanked her tired mind back to the subject at hand.

"Let's do it then, doc." she said positively, "Admiral? Perhaps I can give my report while Cottle takes his four liters of blood or whatever."

Sam opened his mouth as if to protest but shut it when Lee gave him a look. Kara was sure that these two would sit outside waiting for her no matter how long it took, looking to be the first she spoke to. Angrily, she wondered if there was some way to shut down their pissing match before it started. Maybe she could get Cottle to confine her to the infirmary till she got some sleep and could think clearly.

A great longing to be back on Babylon 5 came over her. Not because it was clean and well lit and well supplied, but because it was filled with people with whom she had no history. She was safely anonymous and now one waited outside her door (at least no one who wanted to talk to her about _her)._


	9. Chapter 9

"So, have we heard from Susan yet?" John asked Micheal before any other business could come up. It was their usual daily meeting, and Micheal had been assigned to keep tabs on the White Star and the mission to the Colonial Fleet. Susan had called Sheridan herself to inform him when they had made contact, but with everything else on his agenda, John was very happy to leave the rest in Micheal's competent hands.

"Yep, she checked in this morning. The negotiations are going pretty well, considering the Colonials are all just a tad twitchy." Micheal said.

John nodded, "I can imagine." He shook his head, imagining a fleet full of the walking dead.

"Do you think these Cylons pose threat to us?" asked Micheal.

John shook his head slowly, "I don't think so. Not yet. It may even be possible to broker a peace between the Colonials and the Cylons."

Micheal snorted, "Yeah, right after we get Londo and G'kar to kiss and make up."

xxxx

The most dispassionate observer would have to concede that the ship lazily drifting through normal space was intimidating. More excitable people had descrbed it (or rather, one just like it) as "a cross between a spider and your worst nightmare".

A sentient being might hear the sound of the ship's CPU as it passed. In their mind it would, perhaps, sound as though something were screaming in pain. Machines commonly produce sounds as an effect of their normal functioning. After all, ships traveling at faster than sound speeds in an atmosphere produce sounds like explosions as part of their normal functioning.

Mr. Morden never heard the sounds the ships made. His associates helped him with that. Just as they never allowed the bad dreams to haunt his sleep.

The ship crept as silently as it could, on these edges of their ancient enemy's space. The Rules said they could never trespass, but if they stayed on the far side of the beacons (and they were not caught), no harm would come to them.

Mr Morden reflected on the lucky chance that had brought him out to this terminus.

He'd seen the woman in the company of Commander Ivanova and Marcus Cole. He'd not thought much of it the first time he saw them. They were treating her as a VIP and Morden had assumed she was an ambassador from some colony world.

He'd been shocked when he had gotten close enough to hear them speak.

The woman had been with Mr Cole that day in Mr Stephanopolis' shop in the Zocalo. She'd been having a rather boisterous conversation with the old man in his native Greek.

Her accent was impossible.

Morden's interest was piqued enough that he decided to follow her. Not right away. Not with her escorted by Mr Cole. No, he'd given her image to some of his contacts and waited for a moment when he could catch her alone.

She was not one of the high level ambassadors and Morden could tell she was not accustomed to an entourage. Morden could see by her body language that it oppressed her.

It was very early two mornings later, when his contact called him to say that the woman had been seen walking alone to the restaurant she'd eaten at the day before.

Morden wasted no time, casually sauntering into the restaurant just behind her. The woman seated herself at the counter, making it easy for him to sit down beside her. She was facing the door, which also made his life easier, as he'd see if her handlers came in.

She ordered her food from the lighted screen menu. He did the same, catching her eye casually, "Good morning." he smiled.

She smiled, "No speak English." she said with a pronounced accent, she glanced down at her handheld computer, "Have program!" she pointed at it to indicate she was using it to understand him

"Oh." he said, "What is your language?" he continued his winning smile.

"Caprican." she paused, looking at the screen "Greek?"

"Wonderful!" Morden replied switching to Greek, "I speak that. My name is Mr. Morden"

"I'm Kara Thrace." she extended her hand to shake his, "And it is a very good morning."

"That's an interesting accent you have." Morden said softly, now switching to the Classical Greek he'd never spoken outside of teaching a class.

"I suppose." she replied cheerfully. The waitress brought their food and Kara began to eat with great enjoyment.

Morden noticed that Kara was more than fashionably slim, but her appetite was at odds with that.

"Is this your first time to Babylon 5?" he asked trying to draw her out.

"Mmm." she nodded, her mouth full.

"What do you think?" he asked, "Are you enjoying your stay?"

"I'm really enjoying it. Everyone's been really helpful. I'm eager to head home though." her eyes dimmed a bit, "I've got people counting on me to get them here."

"Where is home?" Morden asked carefully, his associates were whispering in his ears that something was more than amiss here.

"Oh," Kara sighed, "Caprica. A long way away. And really it's not even there any more. See, we were attacked." she hesitated as though she wasn't sure how much she should say, "We're really just a fleet of refugees."

"Babylon 5 has given humanitarian aid to many refugee ships." Morden said neutrally, while wracking his brain for any worlds he knew of that had adopted Classical Greek as a language.

Kara nodded, "So I understand. We think we've located..." she stopped, "Well, I'm hoping we can get them here soon."

"So tell me, Kara Thrace, apart from getting your people here, what do you want?" Morden had found that this question was the key that opened the lock to almost everyone's soul.

Kara looked at Morden hard, for a long time. Unlike others who'd been asked the question, she seemed to understand right away that he didn't mean "What do you want right this moment?" or "What do you want for dinner?".

"I don't think anyone's ever asked me that before." she replied softly.

"High time, then." Morden said just as softly, modulating his smile to convey sympathy and compassion.

"I want...I want...Gods." her voice shook. She sniffed and then smiled tremulously, "Do you know, I have no fraking clue."

Morden sighed, inwardly disappointed. She was no good to them.

"I guess I want the Cylons to just go away." she was talking to herself now.

"Cylons?" Morden asked. Perhaps some use could come out of this interveiw after all.

Kara blushed. Clearly she hadn't meant to say that, "They...well...they were the ones..."

"Who attacked your home?" Morden said. His associates whispered excitedly, they had heard rumors of this race before, a long time ago, from some of their spies.

She nodded, closed her eyes.

"I'm sorry." Morden said gently. His associates indicated that he should end the conversation now. They had made connections by her language and the names she had given him. They would give those names to their vast network and run down rumors and speculations a thousand years old if they had too.

Morden had left the restaurant when he spotted Mr Garibaldi walking purposefully through the Zocalo.

It had taken another few days, and he heard that Delenn and G'kar had left on some secret mission with a new ambassador three days before he had gotten enough information to come out here. To hunt for one of the Vorlon's secret experiments that had apparently not only escaped its cage, but also its laboratory.


	10. Chapter 10

"Diverting power to repair on level eight-one-one. He is coming. Oxygen levels continue to be optimal. He that walks with the shadows. He that has seen the harbinger. The man in between calls. End of line."

Something like a woman floated in a glowing pool. Her eyes were open, but she did not see the room around her. Her dilated eyes shifted from side to side and up and down, as though she were taking in a vast panorama. Her speech was a steady stream of data regarding her ship. She did not feel the ends of her fingers nor the skin of her belly or back; electronic conduits carried information about the running of her ship to her brain. She did not process sound that came through the air, rather her auditory centers were taken up with monitering and facilitating communication with others like herself. Her autonomic nervous system was networked to the ship in such a way that as she tightened and relaxed her diaphragm, the airscrubbers responded. The water system was bound to her own organs of cleansing and waste removal. In short, her brain was hardwired to experience the ship as though it were her own body.

Sometimes her words were strange and random. Nonsense raised to the level of poetry. The rantings of a small child or the pronouncements of a holy lunatic, spoken with no inflection.

"Levels fourty to fourty five have completed cleaning cycle. He is coming. He that walks with the shadows. Water recycling at optimal range. The shadows are moving and the light swallows all. Tyllium supplies will need to be replenished in 4.6 solar days. End of line."

She (it might be more accurate to say "it"; the Hybrid only resembled a woman due to careful cloning which maintained the gender of the original), was very deliberately not self willed. No one knew how well her higher functions worked. She could speak but only in that semi random, probably involuntary, way. Her executive capacities were developed enough that she could make spontaneous decisions regarding the ship's functioning, but those decisions were always subordinate to the creatures she held safe in the rooms and corridors of her ship. She was programmed to consider their safety paramount.

"Do not allow the shadows to gather. Do not allow the light to control us. The harbinger has delivered her tidings. End of line."

For some time now, the Hybrid's stream of conciousness babble, had spoken extensivley on two intertwined subjects.

Cavil knew that some of his brother and sister Cylons took the Hybrid's random chatter as something momentous. For days the Threes had been visiting the Hybrid and listening endlessly.

"I'm telling you Cavil. This means something!" The Three who called herself D'Anna was saying again.

Some Cylons (especially the overly emotional Threes) felt that the voice of God could speak through the Hybrids. D'Anna had yet to garner meaning or form from the Hybrid's talk of light and shadow.

They stood in the humid chamber of the Hybrid. The lights were kept low so as not to cause too much stimulation to the Hybrid's optic nerve. The air was warm and humidity kept constant, to maintain the Hybrid's skin and air passage health. Any strain on the Hybrid's physical body would divert nuerons from their proper function of maintaining the ship.

"It doesn't mean anything." Cavil said firmly, "That's just random noise she generates." Cavil was not comfortable with D'Anna's notions of what the Hybrid knew.

"Well, why has her speech changed? Why is she suddenly talking about...?" D'Anna was interrupted.

The Hybrid cried out, in the loudest voice she'd ever used. A long, open throated wail that ended when she needed to breathe again. Cavil and D'Anna stared, first at the Hybrid, then each other. The Hybrid ended her cry. Then she gasped. After that, her breathing returned to normal, but there was no speech from her lips and her darting eyes were fixed.

"What's happened to her?" demanded Cavil.

D'Anna touched the Hyrbrid's throat and found her pulse. She checked the readings, putting her hand in the pool that contained the liquid data that all the Cylons could access. She looked at Cavil in fear, "We've stopped."

"Stopped? Stopped what?" asked Cavil in confusion.

"Stopped moving. Stopped...everything." Indeed, an eerie silence pervaded the room. The ever present white noise of machinery was not really audible until it was gone.

"Life support?" snapped Cavil, all too aware of the limits of his body, made from flesh and bone rather than sensible metal. He would be resurrected, but death by suffocation and hypothermia were not on his agenda that day.

"I can't tell." D'Anna had her hand in the data stream, but there was no information there. Just more silence.

The humming and thumping of a centurian was deafening in the quiet room.

"A visitor has come." It said in its uninflected machine voice. It was a myth the the centurians were entirely mute. They were able to convey needed information to their superiors.

"What?" snapped Cavil, "What do you mean visitor?"

"A human. He wishes communication with us."

"You mean we've captured a straggler? Or did he come to defect? Did he give you his name?" asked D'Anna. Cavil could see her running through the list of possibilities.

"Mr. Morden." replied the centurian.

D'Anna and Cavil stared at each other with equally mystified expressions, "All right," said Cavil cautiously, "Bring him to interrogation room..."

"We have taken him to the command deck." the centurian inturrupted.

"WHAT?" Cavil shouted, "What for?"

"That is where he wished to go."

"And you just did what he said?" Sputtered D'Anna.

"Yes."

"Why would you do that?" demanded Cavil.

"We have had a revelation." the centurian turned, as though he were escorting them to a normal meeting, while Cavil and D'Anna followed in confusion and rising concern.

"What kind of revelation?" D'Anna asked, catching up to the centurian.

The centurian was silent. D'Anna would have thought him (again that strange habit of assigning gender) obstinant, if it weren' for the fact that centurians were not programmed for such an emotion.

On the command deck, sitting irregularly spaced around the conference table, was a representative of each of the other known models, all looking as fearful and confused as Cavil and D'Anna felt.

A white skinned, dark haired man sat calmly in the chair at the end of it. He was completely unremarkable and seemed totally unconcerned about any of the Cylons.

"How did you stop our ship?" Six was asking him, sharply, "What have you done to the raiders and the centurians? What have you done to us?".

He smiled at her gently, reassuringly, as though she was a frightened child, "Are all the major players gathered?" he asked her.

The Six glanced at Cavil and D'Anna, "We are now."

"Ah. Good." The man stood and turned a smile of greeting on Cavil and D'Anna, as if he were welcoming them to his home, "I must say, this is rather awkward. It's only recently that it has come to the attention of my associates and myself that you were out here."

This pronouncement was met with a little silence as the Cylons looked at each other. Cavil took his place as spokesman, "Are you saying you're not from the Colonial Fleet?" the man's accent was unfamiliar, but Cavil had never studied all the accents of the Colonies. He noted that the man was well groomed and well fed. His clothes appeared new as well.

"No. I'm not. As I said, we've only just now learned of the existence of the Colonies." the man replied casually, "Although we've heard rumors for a while that my associate's ancient adversaries had been running an experiment out here with humans and organic machines." He stood up to walk over to the centurion guarding the door.

The centurian looked down at him and Morden stared up in seemiing admiration, "I must say, I'm impressed. To have hidden the Colonial civilization and the offshoot Cylon civilization from us for so long couldn't have been easy."

"We are not an offshoot." Cavil snapped, "We are a superior life form, evolved beyond human."

"Really," Morden said in the tone of a man humoring an imaginative child. Cavil often didn't understand the inflections that humans used in conversation, but he understood that this human was trying to put them off balance. He resolved to be unmoved by the man's obvious attempts to imply a superior knowledge.

Cavil caught the Eight's gaze and signaled to her that she should be the next questioner.

"Get to the point." The Eight demanded.

Mr. Morden turned to her slowly, that maddeningly gentle smile on his face, "I've come to ask you a question."

"We'll ask the questions here." said the Two (who called himself Leoben), harshly.

"Yes," replied Mr Morden, "I'm sure you have many. I'm happy to answer whatever questions you have." he spread his hands self deprecatingly, "Well, those I know the answer to, anyway."

"What did you do to the Hybrid?" demanded D'Anna.

"Oh. That." Morden's sighed, "Nothing really. My ship merely asked yours to allow me to board. Perhaps a little too...forcefully. My ship didn't realize how delicate she was, you see. When it realized your...Hybrid you called her? Was in some distress, it shut her down before she could overload." Morden shrugged apologetically, "When I leave, my ship will give her instructions to awaken. She'll recover."

The Cylons stared at one another again. They were accustomed to humans who ranted at them, or lied or attempted to evade questioning. This confident forthrightness was more disconcerting than anything they had come up against in a human before.

"What makes you think we'll let you go?" asked Cavil archly.

"I don't believe that's a choice you have." Mr Morden said silkily. There was no threat in his voice, just a firm statement of fact.

"Are you from Earth?" D'Anna burst out, as though she couldn't retrain herself anymore.

Mr Morden smiled broadly, "Yes, as a matter of fact. I was born there, although I haven't lived there in some time."

A moment of confusion as the Cylons began uncharacteristically speaking at once. Without access to the ships data stream, and through it acess to their brother or sister models, they all felt alone in the way that they associated with deep cover work in the Colonies. Their insecurity made their reactions more volatile, more unpredictable, more human. Much to Cavil's irritation.

"Quiet!" he barked, "It doesn't matter. It's just one planet and we've already destroyed the Twelve Colonies. Earth will fall to us as easily."

Mr. Morden's smile never wavered, "You can try, of course, but I believe you are laboring under some misapprehensions about your place in the Universe."

Leoben's angry eyes flickered questioningly at Cavil. Cavil nodded sharply and Leoben started toward the man with fists clenched, ready to show Morden his own place in the Universe.

The centurian walked forward to place itself between Leoben and the human.

"What have you done to them?" demanded D'Anna fearfully.

"Again, nothing. My ship has just been able to speak with them directly. It is unable to speak with purely organic machines like yourselves. Now if you'll all calm down, perhaps we can have a civil discussion." the man showed nothing but patience.

The Cylons who had stood slowly took their seats, as did the man, "So you've come representing Earth?" asked Cavil cautiously, "To...what? Open peace negotioations? Those haven't gone so well between humans and Cylons in the past."

"So I've heard." said Morden, comfortably, "No, I represent an independent group. My associates are very interested in you."

"Are they a corporation then? Or maybe a splinter group from Earth?" asked Six.

"No. My associates actually aren't human."

"So, they're a type of Cylon then?" Six glanced at D'Anna hopefully. Cavil took the look to mean that they were hoping that this would be a way to further their ridiculous "coexistence" agenda.

Morden laughed, "How terribly binary of you. There are many other life forms than merely human in the universe." he paused looking at their befuddled faces each in turn, "Don't tell me they kept _that _from you, as well as everything else." his smile faded, transforming to a look of deep pity, "You really believe you're all alone, out here, don't you?" he waved vaguely, "I didn't think they'd go so far." he shook his head, "I'm very sorry for you." he finished, his voice thick with an emotion Cavil took to be sadness.


	11. Chapter 11

D'Anna had had enough. Whatever this Morden's game was, she was tired of it, "Who are you?" she demanded, "What do you want?"

For the first time Morden appeared irritated, "I doubt highly you'd understand if I told you." he looked down and brushed at nonexistent lint on the sleeves of his suit, "I have given you my name.." Morden went on more mildly, the smile back on his face, "What my associates and I want, is to offer you our help. Oh, and we were wondering the same thing about yourselves."

"Stop speaking in riddles." D'Anna leaned back, crossing her arms. She was deeply unsettled by this human's demeanor.

"What do you want?" Morden asked, looking at each of them in turn.

To D'Anna he seemed to be measuring each of them against a standard only he was aware of. A cold shiver of dislike ran down her back. Humans often elicited dislike in her. They were petty, quarrelsome and unwilling to put aside their own needs to work towards something greater. However, the dislike this human caused her was more visceral, like the feeling she had when one turned over a rock and something slimy and many legged was underneath. Some strange primal aversion brought on, no doubt, by her human DNA. She had heard the debates of whether these responses should be removed from their nervous system, but thus far they had not been because they provided valuable infromation regarding a constantly shifting environment. She, herself, had noticed that the humans who suppressed these responses were the easiest to deceive.

Cavil's mouth worked and then he seemed to get a better grip on himself, "I want you to stop playing games. I want you to tell us where Earth is so that we can receive their surrender." he leaned forward in his chair, "I want you to understand that you are not in charge here. We destroyed the Colonial civilization-a feat unprecedented in human history. We are not threatened by you and your fantasies."

"Unprecedented, you say? What is it you that you have done that is so unprecedented?" Morden's eyebrows rose questioningly, "You won a war against a group of humans that were raised in captivity?"

"We have almost wiped out the human race in its entirety." Cavil spread his hands expansively.

D'Anna could tell he was heading towards one of his speeches. Inwardly she squirmed, she'd heard it all before.

Cavil was continuing, lifting his right hand in emphasis "No one has ever achieved such a complete military victory in the history of the Colonies. Even in the days before the Articles of Colonization, when human fought human, never was a population put down so easily or decisively. Cylons will be completly victorious when we find those few that have so far evaded us..."

Morden inturrupted Cavil's oration with a sardonic laugh and a slow clapping of his hands, "So what you're saying is that you have almost succeeded in destroying a flock of penned up herd animals? Tell me, do you have a word to describe this alleged feat?"

"Why would there be a word?" asked Leoben sarcastically, "He just said it was unprecedented."

"Hmm, really?" Morden stood again, pacing the length of the chamber in irritation, "How about I give you some, shall I? 'Decimate': to kill one in every ten people. The Romans invented that one, a few thouseand years ago. 'Crusade':any of the military expeditions undertaken by the Christians of Europe in the Eleventh, Twelfth, and Thirteenth centuries for the recovery of the Holy Land from the Muslims. And the more Muslims wiped off the face of the earth the better. "

He stopped, turned to face them, looking fierce. He pulled out a small device that produced a hologram about two meters wide and a meter in height. The images appeared to go along with his words,

"'Pogrom':" Morden said, a black and white image of bodies, neatly arranged for disposal, appearing in the air, "The systematic slaughter of people, especially Jews."

Another scene appeared, this one in grainy and sepia toned, showing malnourished humans in striped clothing. "As you see here, the Twentieth Century gave us some interesting concepts that described the extermination of a whole race or population." The man sounded to D'Anna as though he were delivering an academic lecture, "Before the twentieth century, campaigns against whole populations were often not documented. After the Second World War, the term 'crimes against humanity was invented."

The next image showed a gateway with indecipherable writing written over it,"This slide shows what was then termed a 'death camp'. This was referred to as the Holocaust; A systematic campaign intended to wipe out Jews, along with several other groups, from Europe and eventually the planet."

"'Genocide',was a word coined to describe the war crime the designers of the Holocaust were accused of." another two dimensional image of people lying dead or dying on the ground, "'Ethnic cleansing; a euphemism.'', his grin widened as he flicked through images more swiftly, "'Jihad' was a fairly innocent word until the late Twentieth century. " A burning tower appeared. And then a blighted landscape, "Well, as innocent as words that describe war can be. Eventually it came to mean the use of terror tactics against any non Muslims, civilians or military."

Now, he clicked through horrible scenes too quickly to really take in, "I'm a linguist, I can keep this up all day, if you'd like."

D'Anna felt sick. The images Morden showed to them were reminiscent of the destruction of the Colonies as well as new Caprica. But, so many more. "So you're saying Earth has had wars with its own Cylons?"

Morden rolled his eyes, "No, this is what humans do to each other in their natural habitat. From what we can deduce, our adversaries have been keeping the Colonials docile. I'm sure you understand the difference between wild animals and their domestic counterparts? Evolution was stopped cold on the Colonies. Truly, one of the more terrible crimes our adversaries have committed."

D'Anna glanced at Caprica Six who was shaking her head in confusion. Cavil's mouth was drawn tight and he looked as though he was swallowing something bitter.

Mr. Morden seemed determined to continue with his lecture, "And of course, when the _real _humans, the untampered-with variety you understand, moved into space, they discovered other races. More competition that they needed to overcome." Now a variety of images showed people that were decidedly not human, "And they were, for the most part, up to the task." The man shut off his image projector, "I think it would be folly for you, as well as you have done against this dead end human variation, to beleive you could in any way threaten the rest of the species."

"Are you threatening us?" Six finally asked.

Mr Morden turned to her, "No, I'm merely advising you. And, as I said, to ask you a question. What do you want?"

"This is all nonsense." affirmed Leoben. D'Anna could tell he was frightened and hoped the human wasn't able to tell, "What proof do you have? It has been proven that no other space faring life can exist in the Universe. The conditions for life are too rare."

"And yet, how many planets were there in the Colonial system that supported human life? One? Two?"

"There are twelve." said D'Anna firmly.

"Really?" Morden sounded fascinated with this information, "And the conditions for life are so rare that a system has twelve life supporting planets? What are the odds of _that_, do you think?"

"The humans didn't evolve on the Colonies. The Twelve Colonies and Earth all came from Kobol. They say the Lords of Kobol formed the Colonies that the humans might have a place to live, when the resources of Kobol were used up." Six said.

"And the Lords of Kobol are...?"

"Ancient human anscestors. The Colonials worship them as gods." replied D'Anna sourly.

"You disagree, I take it?" remarked Morden to her.

"Its blasphemy. The Cylons were given the true path by God himself. The One God. We have had revelations from him." replied D'Anna.

"Don't be ridiculous," snapped Cavil, "Its not God that guides us. We are the superior species. We don't need gods."

Morden smiled at D'Anna, "I'm afraid your excitable friend there is very likely correct. Those revelations you speak of are probably the result of an old program that's still running. We could put that right, if you like."

"There. You see, D'Anna?" said Cavil, "Even our...guest...agrees with me. This God business is nothing more than..."

"Delusions of grandure on a par with your own." interrupted Morden, smoothly.

"You are not doing yourself any good here, by insulting us." the Eight (Sharon she liked to be called), hissed, defensively. D'Anna had suspected for some time that this particular Eight had a more intimate relationship with Cavil than the others and this confirmed it in her mind.

Morden sighed again, "It's difficult to hear unpleasant truths, isn't it? The truth is that these 'Lords of Kobol' were very likely our adversaries or one of their servant races. The rumor is that they've been running these experiments for a long time. They take a species, pick out some of the more promising cultures, then transplant them. Like one would transplant an orchid into a hothouse. Their rationale is that they are trying to preserve genetic diversity of the galaxy." he shook his head, "Of course they only preserve those species that lend themselves to their manipulations. You are, of course the end result."

"Meaning?" Leoben asked.

"Meaning that the Vorlons, though they kept jumpgate technology and the keys to the Universe from their captive humans, nevertheless gifted them with an unprecedented amount of organic technology. Including creating a design much like my associates have for their ships. Then they apparently abandoned their experiment, for more interesting studies." Morden's face reflected sympathy and pity again.

"_We _created organic Cylons." D'Anna put in, "Through the revelations given to us..."

"By Vorlons." affirmed Morden, "You are children whose parents have left them toys to play with so they don't notice that said parents have snuck away to more important concerns." Morden rose, "Clearly this is a great deal to take in at once. My ship has left further information for you in your data stream. I suggest you examine it. Don't take too long. You have entered a far larger and more dangerous Universe than you can conceive of."

He stood and nodded pleasantly to them, "I'll see myself out." He turned and the centurian moved aside, allowing the man to pass with a much wider space than D'Anna would have thought necessary.

"Oh," he said pausing to look back at them, "I'll have my ship wake up your Hybrid when I'm aboard, and ready to leave. It seems my ships proximity causes her discomfort. I wouldn't want her hurt, she's a very good first effort, you know. I'll be in touch soon."


	12. Chapter 12

_Micheal,_

_Things are very weird here. President Roslyn has decided to appoint me ambassador officially. I never expected that. She says that it makes sense, given that I've had the most contact with you and already have been able to create relationships. _

_Of course, I haven't mentioned the nature of some of those relationships. :)_

Kara hoped the translation program could recognize and interpret the "smiley" in her note to Micheal. She pressed the key that rendered the text into his language and was pleased to see that a little round face with a smile appeared at the end of her text.

She was glad that once she'd shown Lennier and Marcus one of the Galactica's keyboards, they were able to create a virtual one for her to use on the White Star's computers. SHe never felt comfortable dictating her letters to the computer and the keyboards they had on the space station just were too different for her to use to type efficiently.

She typed on,

_Susan tells me that the plan is to bring the Fleet to B5 in the next 48 hours. Things are likely to get even weirder when we get there. Adama and Roslyn are limiting the general populations exposure to the non-humans in the party. They've been making addresses over the wireless to break things to them gently. Food supplies are being passed out, and Cottle's been bitching that his infirmary is now filled with cases of people eating themselves sick. He's exaggerating, of course._

Kara stopped, biting her lip, she reread the paragraph she just typed and then deleted it. She was just dodging the issue with the small talk. She tried again.

_We'll be there soon and then I think you and I need to talk._

Frack, she just knew that men didn't react to that phrase well, in any language. She hit the delete key again.

_I should have told you some things before we got involved._

Delete.

_There are things I should have told you. I didn't mean to keep things from you. I guess I should __have mentioned my husband and my boyfriend, for instance._

Delete. Delete. Delete.

_It's just that I get so tired of being me, with my problems. You didn't ask me about me-alright its a little awkward to have deep personal conversations with the computer translating-and I was grateful. I don't want to talk about it and you were so good about me waking you up like that_

She broke off in frustration, deleting the whole letter. If it were this hard to write it, how could she ever say it?

Susan and Marcus had been appointed her handlers and they were quite happy to escort her around, but the novelty of solitude had a powerful pull on Kara. Since the Fall of the Colonies, the only place Kara had been alone, was in the cockpit of her Viper.

Or in some awful prison cell, either back on Caprica or on New Caprica.

On Babylon 5 they gave her a whole set of rooms to herself, an ID card that took her most places she wanted to go and a stipend to cover personal expenses, like clothing and restaurant food. To her joy, once she had been given a tour of the station, and Franklin had cleared her healthwise, she spent some very happy hours walking alone. She was even able to find a few people who spoke her language at least as well as Susan.

One of the mornings she took herself out to breakfast, Micheal came in search of her. Susan was stuck in a meeting with Sheridan and Marcus had disappeared on some errand of his own.

At the time, Babylon 5's best navigational people were trying to map out the possible coordinates the Fleet could have jumped to. All the meeting points that Kara had knowledge of. Babylon 5 had star charts that boggled Kara's imagination.

She was dazzled by the amount of space they had explored, yet she spent the whole week terrified that they would never find her people again. That, in all that vastness, they would be lost until the Cylons tracked them down and picked them off.

That day Micheal had stepped in to take Susan's place and escort her about. He didn't speak her language, but she was learning English, a little. And the translator in her little handheld was more than adequate.

Kara was very comfortable around Micheal. He was military of some ilk and if she understood him, he'd come up through the ranks in the last war Earth had with the Minbari. They'd spent a very fun day together. It seemed only natural to invite him into her quarters.

One thing led to another. The language barrier wasn't much of a problem; Kara supposed some things were just universal.

In the wee hours of the morning, she'd woken him by trying to strangle him.

Gods bless the man, he'd been very sweet about it, once he'd woken her up, properly. He'd had the sense to shout to tell the computer to turn on the lights as he wrestled her off of him, and then he slapped her hard, "Kara!" he'd yelled, shaking her, then some words in his own language.

The audio of the computer had translated his words. "Kara. Dream. You're dreaming." The weird, artificial female voice was what brought her out of it.

She sat up, looking around in a panic. Tears were spilling down her cheeks and she had scrubbed them away angrily. Holding her breath, she had stared into Micheal's face. Very deliberately he removed his hands from her shoulders. "Shhh..." he'd said, "You okay?"

She'd recognized that phrase, but couldn't think of the pronoun. She nodded "Kara okay," she'd said to be clear, but feeling like a moron.

Micheal had gotten up and brought her back a glass of water. He'd sat next to her, without touching her, but had squeezed her hand when she took his.

"Sorry." she whispered.

Her words were repeated by the computer. He smiled, shrugged. "Happens. Get them myself now and then."

She nodded at the translation, returned the smile.

After that, they had lay back down together, sleeping after a while. Kara was grateful for Micheal's discretion. Lee or Sam would have wanted to sit up all night and analyze the fracking thing. They would have wanted to talk about New Caprica and Leoben. They'd want to talk about their relationship, then they'd want to talk about What Went Wrong.

Kara had just wanted to sleep and Micheal let her.

So it wasn't anything to base a relationship on, it was what she'd needed, right then. Like the calories Dr Franklin insisted she keep stuffing herself with, like the clean air and clean water, a little uncomplicated sex was doing her body and spirit a whole lot of good.

Kara glanced at the time, gave her attempted letter up as a bad job. She had to be back at the Galactica soon. She wasn't looking forward to her continued game of keep-away-from-Lee-and-Sam, but she and Susan were accompanying Lyta Alexander to her meeting with the Old Man and Roslyn and the highest ranking oracle left in the fleet.

For some reason that Kara couldn't fathom, the people from Earth (Earthers? Earthlings? Either term sounded silly to her ears) seemed to think that oracles were a big deal.


	13. Chapter 13

Lyta sat quietly behind Susan and Marcus as their shuttle prepared to launch from the White Star to meet with the Galactica. As was Lyta's habit, she breathed through the calming exercises all telepaths were taught. She cleared her mind and focused on her own breathing.

Traveling with Susan and Marcus was comfortable for Lyta. Some normals shouted their thoughts at the top of their mental voices, others had what some teeps termed "gerbil brain"; thoughts that were so disconnected and noisy that it was like being in a room with a gerbil that constantly ran on a wheel. Worst were the mentally unbalanced whose thoughts shouted and whispered by turns as their unregulated neurotransmitters seemed to fire at random.

Marcus had received training on Minbar. Many Minbari had a bit of telepathy; it wasn't nearly as rare among them as it was among humans, thus there was a whole set of mental excersises they learned to keep from broadcasting themselves to all and sundry. Unfortunately, Minbari were reluctant to trade telepathic techniques with humans.

Lyta didn't even know if Minbari telepaths and human ones were even comparable. She did know that she heard very little noise from Marcus' mind unless he was very excited.

Susan also had a very quiet mind. From a casual look, it appeared that Susan was merely one of those tightly controlled, tightly disciplined types that the military tended to attract. However, a scan that was deeper than merely casual would reveal the truth, Susan was a latent telepath with a low level shield. It wouldn't block a real scan, but it kept her thoughts from being more than a low murmur to Lyta's senses.

Susan could detect feelings, she had told Lyta, if they were strong. Coupled with Susan's good reflexes and well trained intuition, it made her an excellent pilot and an even better Commanding Officer. Lyta wasn't sure if Susan actually realized how much she relied on that sixth sense in battle, whether in the cockpit or C and C.

Beside Lyta, Ambassador Thrace sat. Another quiet mind.

Thanks to the deep scan Lyta had done on Kara, Lyta knew that Kara was also a latent telepath.

It was not as surprising as it could have been, Lyta reflected. She wondered if anyone had ever bothered to do a study on the incidence of latent telepathy in pilots of a certain caliber. She might have even suggested it, had she still been working for the Psi Corps.

However, when she was working for the Corps, the official policy was that telepaths were found as soon as their abilities manifested themselves. No one would want to admit that there was a cadre of unregistered, albeit low level teeps running around.

Today Kara was tense in the way she held herself and the way she spoke. She was still quick with her smile, but it tended to be superficial and Lyta noticed she kept playing with the rings she wore on a chain around her neck. Lyta wondered how well was adjusting to being the new Colonial Ambassador.

Kara leaned forward and said something to Susan in that odd Greek dialect that had been driving the linguists mad. All the linguists said that it was impossible for Kara to be speaking anything that resembled an Earth dialect, let alone one that contained modern concepts and idioms. Lyta was convinced that the Vorlons must have tampered with the language, but Kosh was currently silent on the subject of the Colonials.

At least she was allowed to help Sheridan. She'd thought that Kosh had not wanted her to be involved with this. He had been silent for longer than usual when she'd first reported Sheridan's request that she scan Kara.

And then, most unusually, he'd demanded to observe the scan from inside her head. Once she'd returned him to his quarters, he'd downloaded the memories they'd gained from Kara onto the device that passed for a computer. From this he was able to view them on the thing that the Vorlons used as a moniter.

Most of the memories were traumatic. It was very hard for Lyta to witness the images of the destruction of Kara's homeworld again. She was grateful that Kosh hadn't wanted to see the more private images that Kara carried. Lyta didn't think she would have made it out of Kara's mind without giving herself a case of vicarious post traumatic stress.

She had stood, her eyes averted, talking herself through several meditations while he viewed some of them. After a while, apparently realizing her discomfort, Kosh had absently given her permission to withdraw to her own quarters.

Kosh had been more cryptic than usual in his orders to Lyta regarding her mission to the Colonials. She was to "Go. Observe and decide".

Naturally, what was to be decided was not specified.

Kara glanced at Lyta, from her tone, she seemed to be asking Susan a question.

Susan and Marcus stared at each other for a second. Kara turned her smile to Lyta.

"What?" asked Lyta, frowning.

Susan turned all the way around to speak with Kara, "Είστε βέβαιοι εσείς αισθάνεστε εντάξει με αυτόν;?"

Kara nodded and smiled at Lyta again.

Susan now looked like she'd swallowed a frog, "Lyta, Kara wants to know if you can do that…uh" she hesitated, "'Talking in her head thing' again? And she's wondering if it would make it easier for you to understand things if you listened through her?"

Lyta's jaw dropped. She had been surprised by Kara's easy acquiescence to a deep scan, but had put it down to the desperation of her case. Most normals were appalled if a telepath even spoke to them in their thoughts, let alone 'listened in'.

Admittedly, it would only take a very minor surface scan to do what Kara was suggesting with most people. Usually people were pretty focused during a conversation and a telepath could just tune out the side thoughts.

"If…if Kara's really all right with it…" said Lyta hesitantly, as she scanned Kara, ever so carefully. When she ran into that natural barrier that latent telepaths seemed to have, the thoughts in front of the barrier were clear.

"It's fine." Said Kara with both voice and mind, giving Lyta that infectious grin, "It's not as though you're the first oracle I've ever met."

She turned pensive for a second, "Not too many of them made it out. They don't tend to join the military and most of the priests and priestesses…" she shrugged, "Only a few were rescued."

Lyta filed that away. Minbari tended to treat telepathy as a religious calling as well. So culturally, the Colonials might not have a huge a prejudice regarding telepaths. Perhaps they were even regarded as having high status. It could not be denied that the Psi Corp was a kind of ghetto. It would be a relief to be seen as merely having a religious calling.

"So, how are you enjoying your new status as Ambassador?" asked Lyta aloud, for the benefit of Susan and Marcus, although she projected it into Kara's brain. It was much easier to communicate like this. Kara processed it as spoken word because that was the part of her brain accustomed to hearing speech.

"It's weird." Like Lyta she spoke aloud, but Lyta could "hear" the thoughts. Her mental voice was overlaid with uneasy emotion. Lyta couldn't get a good grasp on what that emotion was, like trying to read the micro expressions on someone's face.

"I suppose it just takes getting used to," said Susan.

Kara sighed, "I suppose." She sank back into her chair. Gave Lyta a half smile and turned her attention to the window.

It was the first time Lyta would be seeing the Galactica and the first time she was meeting any Colonials other than Kara. There were two high ranking Oracles who were part of the Colonial governing structure.

Another thing the translation and cultural teams were going mad over. The Colonials with the exception of Jumpgate technology seemed to have developed in lockstep with Earth technologically. Even though the cultural teams had found evidence that the cultural forces that had driven certain advances had never happened to the Colonials.

Lyta's eyes had started to habitually glaze over during the daily briefings when some wonk started to rant on about yet another impossible aspect of Colonial life and culture..

The consensus was that their culture had to have been tampered with. According to Medlab, Kara even seemed to have had immunities to similar diseases.

This was all very secret, of course.

Fortunately, outside of the specialists involved, most people were buying the cover story that the Colonials were merely a backwater Earth settlement that had lost touch with Earth only thirty or forty years ago and were now a group of refugees fleeing the Shadows.

The Minbari had a couple of Colony worlds that were suitable for humans. For the time being, it would make sense to offer one of those to the Colonials.

One of Lyta's purposes with meeting with the Colonial Oracles was to verify the truth of that offer for the Colonial government. Apparently, although the Colonials had (from what Lyta could understand) a Separation of Powers similar to what had been adopted by many Earth governments in the 18th and 19th Centuries , visions and mysticism played a huge part in the running of said government.

Lyta found it interesting that such a technologically advanced group was still looking to prophecy to make major governmental decisions. According to Kara, the route to Earth had been plotted by using thousand year old prophecy and the president's visions. Lyta was just glad no one was suggesting they slaughter a goat to read its entrails.

On the other hand, the Minbari put great store by prophecy. Perhaps it was because they had so many telepaths. The Centauri were also great believers in prophecy of course. There was another race where telepaths were not rare. In fact, each and every one of them was just telepathic enough to know how they were destined to die.

One of Lyta's instructors had explained that telepaths of any race were often able to tap into premonitions. He'd explained, with long quantum equations how, "The organic mind, with telepathic ablilities, could surf the tachyon ocean." or some such pseudo poetic nonsense. Lyta had learned enough quantum physics to pass the class and had promptly forgotten it.

It took a matter of minutes for their shuttle to bridge the gap between the White Star and the Galactic.

After the short landing procedure, and disembarking, they were to meet Delenn and G'kar who were receiving a tour of the Galactica (they had a translator from the linguist's team). At that time they would be introduced to Admiral Adama, President Roslyn and the Sybil, the highest ranking Oracle they had and to her acolyte.

Lyta took a deep breath when she landed, steeling herself for the ordeal of having to move among so many emotionally volatile refugees. Fortunately for her, telepathic abilities were limited to line of sight unless she became creative. Otherwise she'd never get any sleep.

Susan preceded her down the ramp as did Kara. Marcus fell into step behind her.

A dark haired man in an orange jump suit came to greet them. He saluted Susan and Kara sharply, but with a smile.

"Commander Adama will be taking you to the President and the Admiral." He informed them.

Lyta listened to the speech through Kara's ears. Another spike of uneasiness washed through Kara, though she firmly suppressed it.

The man turned to Marcus and Lyta, "Welcome aboard the Galactica." he said. Lyta could detect very little emotion from him. Another military man, accustomed to keeping himself under control.

"I'm Chief Galen Tyrol." He saluted Marcus and Lyta as well.

Kara introduced each of the party in turn. Susan and Marcus both greeted the Chief in their Greek.

"Does she speak Caprican?" Tyrol asked Kara, when she introduced Lyta.

Kara laughed, "She's getting the translation from my head. She's an Oracle."

Tyrol laughed too, "Gods! I didn't know they could do that." He shook his head, but didn't seem disturbed.

"My mother was an Oracle." He said, genuinely pleased, "She'd hoped I had the gift too, but…" he shrugged, "Not called, I suppose. We're pleased to welcome you aboard, Sybil."

Curious to test his reaction to her, Lyta extended her hand. She'd observed Kara use the handshake to greet civilians, so she guessed it was culturally appropriate for a man to shake a woman's hand.

He grinned and grasped her hand unhesitatingly.

With the skin contact, Lyta made a tiny brush at his mind. No fear or hesitation was there. He also had a thin barrier that could be breached if she were to push, but he didn't broadcast his thoughts, just whispered them.

Yes, another latent telepath—but of course his mother was one. This was interesting.

They continued down the ramp into the docking bay. Usually, a large group of people sounded to Lyta's mind like a crowd at a sports event sounded to her ears. It could be quite overwhelming if the crowd was emotional at all.

This crowd though...It was like walking into a crowded library or a house of worship on a major holy day. The minds were all quiet, focused on their tasks, no more than murmurs to her telepathy.

Lyta stood for a moment in astonishment. Susan and Marcus looked quizzically at her. Tyrol and Kara stopped after a second too.

Lyta stared at the deck full of busy people, only a few of whom had stopped to look at the new comers. To the dock workers and grunts; to the pilots and mechanics and marines.

This was not a ship full of Minbari-trained Rangers with tightly defined roles and meditative techniques. This was a group of normal seeming humans with varying amounts of attention to their tasks and jobs.

More boldly now, Lyta lowered her defenses and scanned the first person she saw, a man working on one of their ships.

The man scratched the back of his head as though troubled by an insect, then he looked around, finally meeting Lyta's eyes. He smiled at her as she pulled back. Nodded to her, as though very much aware that she was the source of the scan.

"Lyta?" Susan said sharply, "Are you all right?"

Lyta turned to see Susan's worried eyes, "No, I'm not all right." Her hands were shaking, "I think I'm about 40,000 kinds of not all right."


End file.
